


A Pauper's Prince

by Welsh_Woman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Except For Kate, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Full Shift Werewolves, Kate's a Bitch, M/M, Multi, Papa Stilinski's Name Is John, Slow Build, Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsh_Woman/pseuds/Welsh_Woman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's expected.</p><p>Required.</p><p><em>Necessary</em>.</p><p>Or, at least, that's how it starts...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

In a room deep within the belly of the Lycan High Council, the Hale family-almost royal themselves due to their bloodline-are waiting on a Emissary of the King, a beautiful dinner set out before them both in honor of the occasion, but also in honor of their guest.

A very important guest that has yet to arrive...

“It's alright to be a little nervous, my pup.”

“I'm _not_ nervous!”

Talia laughs softly, not a note of mockery in the entire moment, and Derek loves his mother all the more for it despite the fact that she takes the next instant to point out, “I see, than it must be a loss of appetite that has had you stabbing that steak as if had insulted my honor...”

Looking down at his plate, Derek sees that she is correct in her observation; the steak that he had been eating now looks like it came straight from the Hunt to the table, instead of going through the three hours of preparation it had in order to make an impression on an Emissary of the King, and it causes the ball of nerves in Derek's stomach that he refuses to admit are there to tighten as he lowers his fork. “I suppose my appetite _has_ decided to take a break for now... I'll eat more when he gets here.”

“ _If_ he ever gets here, or even decides to show up at all,” Peter's comment is more of an annoyed sigh then anything else as he reclines against the back wall with all the grace of the King holding Court, his eyes sweeping the room to take in the remainder of the Hale family-Laura and Cora-before settling on Derek last. “I mean, is there really a point in keeping us waiting like this? It's not as if we are going to turn them down, no matter _who_ they send, not after what happened the last time we tried this-”

“Peter, that is **enough**!” Talia snaps, but Derek is already back to stabbing at his meal, his tentative good mood disappearing as quickly as it appeared, blocking out the fighting that is going on over his head and getting louder by the minute.

He _knows_ that his last attempt at an engagement went terribly and he _knows_ that it was his fault; Kate had been kind enough, before making some sort of story about political disagreements that couldn't be resolved, to come to him and explain in detail why they couldn't be together, pointing out that she only wanted what was best for him and that perhaps he could 'make some changes' to be a better partner to whoever he ended up with.

His desperate plea that he could change anything and everything for _her_ had only been met with a laugh, before she had given his cheek an almost mocking pat, and walked out of his life as if it were simply that easy to forget about someone you once claimed to love...

Since then, Derek has made it his goal to try to make it so that he's more interesting to the Court that the Hale family has had to negotiate and mingle with, working on making sure they know that while he is not the best Hale to converse with, Cora can debate as well as any man, and that while there are some things he is passionate about, battle tactics are not really the most fitting dinner conversation, so small talk would be better directed to Laura or his mother... Hell, he wouldn't even be able to seduce them properly, because Kate had been pretty clear about _that_ as well, so he can't even use the 'good looks' he's been praised for correctly-!

“Even if there was a spark of life in that meat, I'm almost certain that it is dead now.”

Startled by the new voice, Derek almost transfers the knife from his plate to their thigh, but stops himself just in time by the reminder that this is suppose to a _royal luncheon_ and he can't go around stabbing people with eating implements because they manage to startle him; so he releases the death grip he has on the cutlery, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and looks up at the newcomer he hopes is the representative from the King.

The face that greets him is bright and _young_ , with a smile that makes the nerves that are flying through Derek's stomach settle slightly before the man-just barely, but still...-extends a hand for Derek to shake as he states, “I am Emissary Stilinski and I apologize for making you wait; the chariot I had ridden here lost a wheel and the man that was suppose to fix it only made it worse, I really need to talk to Scott-I mean, 'have a word with the King'-about sending _anyone_ out with _Greenburg_ , of all people... Anyway, after watching the poor man fail around for a bit, I realized that I was going to be late, so I ran the rest of the way and here I am! Sooo...”

It takes Peter pointedly clearing his throat for Derek to realize that he had just been staring at Stilinski babbling away in front of him and had yet to return the handshake he offered, so he grabs the man's hand in his own, cutting Stilinski off mid-rant and making him give Derek this _look_ that he can't quite figure out, but he really hopes that it isn't disappointment, because he can't have screwed this up before they even started, his family _needs_ this to work and Derek can't look at Stilinski anymore so instead decides to focus on the small hand clasped in his larger one.

It's a pale tone that is evident of days spent indoors; no doubt a scribe or counselor going by the calluses on the fingertips, but his nails are jagged and torn, speaking of nervousness or anxiety that causes Emissary Stilinski to bite or pick at them. This little imperfection makes Derek relax slightly, easing some of the starch out of his spine, and he gives the man a small smile when he finally releases Stilinski's hand as he offers up the customary greeting, “We welcome you to our Den, Emissary. Please feel accepted and well met.”

Derek's words cause Stilinski's smile to _bloom_ across his face, which is both good and bad; good, because it meant that his lapse in etiquette went by without comment or criticism, bad because it caused something in Derek's chest to practically _leap_ forward and he has to stop himself from reaching for Stilinski's hand to see if he make the man smile again, or perhaps even tease a laugh out of him...

The reason that was so bad was that Kate had been _very_ clear that Derek's perchant for contact had been one of the main reasons that they had been unable to make it as a couple; she had welcomed his touches and caresses at first, but had been quick to inform him that he came off as 'clingy' and 'invading' before stating that it had been only her word that had kept them together before it became too much and she had to end it, because she couldn't spend the rest of her life feeling suffocated and oppressed.

Now here he is, almost making the _exact same_ damn mistakes after a single handshake and a _smile_ from a man that he had just _met_!

Did he learn _nothing_ after the last disaster of his relationship?! What is it about this man that has all of his carefully controlled urges and nuances broken down after spending only a few minutes in his company?!?

A tiny, timid voice in the back of his head pipes up that this is the man that is going to be his _mate_ , _**shouldn't**_ he show him some affection? Isn't a given that he pay attention to the way Stilinski has moved over to Talia and has begun renegotiating a treaty that has been stuck in the Courts for _years_ , writing his notes _right on the paper_ and listening when Talia asks about ancient lycanthropic hunting grounds?

Isn't he _suppose_ to be awed by the fact that this man, this man that doesn't even _know them_ is even willing to give up some of the outlying forests because he knows there are cave art in them that have been part of their history for _generations_?

“You know about our art?!? Humans _never_ are interested in our art, much less believe we could even _create_ anything!” Cora's voice has taken on a happy cry that Derek has almost _never_ heard from her, causing Stilinski has turned to her with that _grin_ of his, and Derek can almost _feel_ himself sinking ever lower into his chair as he listens to them debate playfully over whether earlier Humans or Lycans were the better artists as he feels the small bit of food he had managed to eat sour in his stomach.

Derek is absolutely worthless when it comes to treaties, believing in the 'strike first, ask questions later' approach, but he _is_ aware enough to know that way would have ended in his entire family's death rather than the peace they so desperately need; meanwhile, Stilinski is even putting _Talia_ to shame with the renegotiation while still being respectful enough to realize that there are some things she will _not_ move on and being gracious when she finds a few clauses that he also feels strongly about.

Looking at the treaty now that Stilinski is distracted, Derek can practically _see_ how much better things are going to be, despite the hiccups that this is going to put in the Courts; there are a few that still believe Lycans should be hunted down and slaughtered like animals, King Scott just barely being able to silence the murdering bastards... Derek fights the anger bubbling in his chest by focusing on Emissary Stilinski's handwriting, smirking a little when it appears that there is _one_ thing he is better at, at least.

His smile slips as he tunes back into the conversation that Stilinski and Cora are having because while he might claim the better penmanship, he knows nothing of art besides what he thinks looks nice, while Stilinski is speaking of periods when painters-both Lycan and Humans-revolutionized their professions with a passion that makes Derek shift in his seat as he wonders what else might light that fire within the Emissary... and bemoaning the fact that there is nothing he can offer because Stilinski...

Stilinski...

Stilinski is _perfect_ and he's going to be _so_ disappointed when he realizes that he's stuck with Derek that it wouldn't be that big of a surprise if he called off the engagement just like Kate did, if not sooner... Maybe he should just tell his mother that it would be better if they had Cora take his place, or even Laura, who was now getting into her own debate with the Emissary on the healing properties of the herbs and roots that grow in their newly reclaimed forests, her own wildly flailing arms almost colliding with the Emissary's as she also gives in to rarely seen joy.

Peter once more cuts through Derek's self flagellation-he's really more surprised that it's taken his uncle this long to speak, given that the man almost never shuts up normally-and no one is surprised that it's with a thinly veiled insult toward their guest, complete with a mocking sneer; “What with how well you know these plants, one would almost think you did your own _experimenting_ with them, _Emissary_.”

Talia is opening her mouth, no doubt to chastise Peter for speaking so to someone of the King's favor, when Stilinski lightly places a hand on her arm to gain her attention and waits until she nods at him before stating ever-so-calmly, “Coming from someone that is well known for his rather... _public_ views on the affect of some of these spices, I think my own dabbling is well within the rights of etiquette... _My Lord_.”

The feral way Peter grins at Emissary Stilinski does _not_ cause Derek to bash his head against the table, but it's a very, very close thing...

 

\--------------------

\------------------

\--------------

 

This luncheon is not going the way Talia had hoped.

It is surprisingly not the Emissary's fault-which _is_ a surprise considering how the Humans have dealt with their kind up to this point-but rather the fault of one of her family.

Her son, to be precise.

There are many days that Talia wishes that she had been the one that ripped Kate Argent's throat out, despite her claim that she was done with killing humans...

That blackhearted cunt was the reason that Derek was such a shell of his former self, Talia was willing to bet her Alpha status on it; before Kate, he had been more than willing to offer his opinion on everything that had to do with their Pack, even arguing with _her_ a few times, had been _very_ vocal in the belief that their family should _never_ be less than what they were, that they should hold their heads up high and _never_ bow before someone would had not _earned_ their loyalty.

Before Kate, her son would not be slumped in his seat, holding himself back from interacting with someone she _knows_ that he is interested in.

Talia had seen the way Derek's eyes had narrowed in on the boy once he had taken the Emissary's hand-and that was another thing that had surprised her, how _young_ these humans were when they were allowed power, it was confusing and a little alarming to say the least-had seen the way that the Emissary's throat had bobbed, the way he had licked his lips, Derek unknowingly copying the movement before he had given the Lycan Greeting.

So, there was interest... on _both_ sides.

The wrench in the works is that Derek isn't _doing_ anything! There had been moments when Emissary Stilinski had gone to include Derek in discussion, ask him a question or get his opinion, but Derek had _missed it_ by glowering at his plate or the floor, so Stilinski had sighed, lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, and gone back to talking with Laura or Cora, _completely_ missing the way that Derek would look at him only _moments_ later.

It was _**maddening**_!

There is the slightest whisper of bare feet against the polish floor of the Hale Den before one of Talia's children interrupts her contemplation of whether or not she could get away with locking her son and the Human Emissary alone in the room for the foreseeable future with, “You know, it would be completely undignified for the Lycan Alpha to bash her son over the head, _especially_ if she does so in front of a visiting Emissary.”

“Oh, Laura, just _look_ at them and tell me that I'm not imagining what I'm seeing!” There _had_ been times that Talia was so desperate to find someone to make Derek forget all about the wench that had somehow snuffed the light out of him that she had seen signs where there were none, so she was grateful Laura had come to speak to her now; Talia firmly believed that Laura was the only one of her children that inherited any of her levelheadedness, with Cora and Derek-Before-Kate being more like her hotblooded husband, poor man... “Tell me that you don't want to give that brother of yours a good kick in the tail as well!”

“What exactly is it that I'm suppose to be seeing he-” Laura's voice cuts off when she notices Derek giving Stilinski-'call me Stiles, please'-a _look_ that she thought had died the day Kate Argent broke her brother's heart, and it takes her a few seconds before she can get her thoughts in the right order. “Oh... _Oh_!”

“Yes, _**exactly**_!” Talia is now both anxious and thrilled that her suspicions are confirmed; the mere fact that Derek is showing interest in _anyone_ is no doubt a sign that Kate's hold on him isn't as strong as it once was, but it also means that this boy now has the power to damage her son even _worse_ than he was before... “The question we need to ask now is, what do we do to make sure that their Pairing doesn't fall apart before it even happens?”

“I'm all for locking them in this room until they finally give into their baser urges and we have a new member of the Pack on the way,” Talia bites her lip at another reminder of the similarities between her oldest daughter and herself, the knowing grin on Laura's face telling her mother that she was well aware that Talia had been thinking of something along those lines only moments earlier. “Given our luck, however, they'd probably just spend the entire time ignoring each other and end falling asleep _on_ each other instead of _with_ each other...”

Talia sighs as Laura's prediction is given credit by the defensive slope of Derek's shoulders and the way that Stiles has stopped trying to engage him in the verbal battle the boy is having-and winning!-with Peter, wishing not for the first time that she had listened to her instincts when Derek had told her of his relationship with the Argent woman, and stopped that disaster from happening in the first place; he might have hated her for a while, but she rather have him upset than the wisp of his former self that he is now...

“Well, there is at least one thing I can do,” Raising her voice, Talia grabs the attention of the entire room by clearing her throat, smiling at the startled looks before calmly stating, “I fear we have taken too much of your attention from the primary reason you are here, Emissary Stilinski; why don't you talk a walk around the gardens with my son and get to know each other a little better? I'm sure that Derek will be interested in getting to know the man that's to be his Mate...”

Derek does _not_ look like he thinks that is a good idea, but Talia's done waiting for her son to make the first move, and she's more interested in the way Stiles rolls Derek's name around in his mouth in a whisper so soft that even _she_ can barely hear it. He blushes when he catches her watching him, but doesn't say anything more as he heads to the door at the end of the hall, giving Cora and Peter a small nod on the way out.

Talia's son, however, takes that moment to run up to his mother with a look of utter panic on his face.

“ _What are you doing_ -”

“-I'm merely trying to help my son get to know his Mate, like I said-”

“-haven't you been _listening_ to him?!?” The fact that Derek is talking over her is just one more reason that Talia _knows_ that this Emissary and her son _need_ this time together; if he had been uninterested, Derek would have done what she said, but simply stayed mute the entire time and just let the Emissary frustrate himself into leaving. “I think it might be a better idea if you just have Cora or Laura walk with the Emissary instead...”

_**Oh no, you don't!** _

“The Emissary's name is _Stiles_ , Derek, and you would know that if you had spent any time at all _talking_ to the boy,” Her son flinches a little and Talia softens her tone; she doesn't want to bully Derek into this, she just wants her son to be _happy_ and not let the ghost of a woman who never really loved him to ruin the rest of his life, “Laura was going to be walking with Stiles, anyway, my pup.”

His heart skips and he flinches again, much more noticeably this time, letting Talia know that Derek is at least _somewhat_ interested in their guest, despite what he may say. “Oh... really?”

“Of course, I can't have my son wandering around with his future Mate without someone there to make sure things don't get... _physical_ ,” Talia giggles when Derek drops his face into his hands, but immediately stops when he doesn't immediately raise his head again. Looking over at Peter to make sure Cora still has him engaged in conversation, Talia wraps her arms around her only son and whispers, “Why are you so against this, Derek? Anyone, Human or Lycan, would be _blessed_ to have you as their Mate, would thank the Gods for bringing you into their life!”

To anyone else, the words that came after Derek's choked off chuckle would have been an intelligible mutter, but Talia is the Lycan Alpha and even without the enhanced senses, she could almost tell what his next words would be.

“Kate didn't think so.”

It doesn't stop her blood from boiling in her veins and the wish that the Argent woman could be reanimated just so Talia could kill her again overcome her; that had been one of the main reasons why she had been so apprehensive of agreeing to a treaty with the Human King in the first place, what with an Argent woman as his Queen, but a quick conversation with Stiles had reassured her that the woman was nothing like her relative.

He had been rather _adamant_ about that fact. Perhaps he had met the woman before...

“Then Kate Argent was an idiot of the highest degree, despite what you thought of her,” Talia tightens her grip when she feels Derek squirming to get free, determined to have her say before her child threw away any type of happiness that he may acquire with this Stiles fellow, “No, you listen to me, Derek Hale! She _was_ an idiot, a fool, and a bitch; I've had _multiple_ offers for the privilege to be your Mate, before _and_ after that Human strung you along, only by your own insistence that you did not want anyone else have I turned them away. All I ask is that you _talk_ to Emissary Stiles, see if you might be willing to give this a chance and if not, we will find some other way to treaty with the Humans.”

Derek doesn't say anything after that, doesn't defend Kate or refute the fact that Talia has been turning away potential Mates-which _is_ true; her son is the most sought after Lycan since her grandfather's time, and that's only because they were still being hunted before then, otherwise she was _sure_ that he'd hold that record for even _longer_ -but he pulls away from her just as Peter manages to finally shake Cora off.

“The boy is _somewhat_ interesting, I'll give him that,” Peter drawls as he comes over to Talia's side and gives his nephew a long look before nodding his head toward the door that their guest had disappeared through with another of his trademark sneers, “Aren't you suppose to follow him when he leaves? Or are we already giving this up as a bad idea, considering the fact that you haven't been the best pick in potential partners lately?”

Talia snaps at him again, so infuriated that he's breaking all of her hard work with his hateful words that she lets a bit of her wolf flow into her growl, baring down until Peter dips his head to her and bares his throat in the traditional Lycan submission, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Derek ignores both of them and walks, or rather _stomps_ , out of the dining hall with barely a glance to see if Laura is following him and completely ignores Cora's soft, “Good luck.” when he passes her.

Talia waits until she is absolutely sure that Derek is out of their rather impressive earshot before she rounds on Peter, who has once more put himself against the wall in a way that suggests this is all beneath his interest or even his notice, his casual indifference making her words come out in a snarl that has the girls immediately at attention. “What was that? Are you determined to break your nephew's spirit even more than that awful woman has? Do you hate him that much?!?”

“This has nothing to do with Derek and everything to do with that _Human_ that you merrily sent him off with,” Peter does not back down from her temper this time and Talia forces herself to take a few breaths before this turns into a fight; perhaps the children haven't inherited their tempers _just_ from their father, after all... “As you so precisely put it, dear sister, he has already been hurt from interacting with these Humans once before, how are you so sure that this _child_ is any different?”

“Oh, he's different, all right. He better be.” Talia lets the red glow that signifies that she is the leader of their pack, that her decision is _final_ cover the blue of her irises as she gives Peter a grin that would have put his earlier one to shame. “Or I'm going to rip his throat out.”

“With my _teeth_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Derek seems a bit OOC here, but I like to think that this is a Derek right after the betrayal by Kate; he hasn't had time to cover up his wounds yet, and as it says in the story, what she said before she cut our Sourwolf's heart out left a bit of an impression...
> 
> It is an alternate universe, so everything should be taken with a grain of salt, but feel free to let me know if I'm going too far out of characterization.
> 
> Nicely, please and thank you.
> 
> P.S. Talia's ferocity comes from the fact that someone has already hurt her baby and if they try it again, HEADS WILL ROLL!
> 
> Thank you.


	2. First Impressions: Part 2

Derek is pretty sure that if he knowingly ingested a tonic of wolfsbane, it still would not be as painful as what he's going through right now...

He is currently walking through his mother's garden with an Emissary from the King, a man who is to be his Mate by way of arranged marriage, with Laura following a discrete distance away; now, it's not the fact that he's walking with Stiles, that the man has been chattering almost nonstop for the last few minutes, nor is it the fact that he can practically _smell_ Laura's amusement, even from her position on the other side of the courtyard.

No, the thing that is making him consider poison being a better alternative is Stiles merrily reinforcing the initial impression that he had made on Derek; throughout the entirety of the walk, Stiles seems to know the various nuances behind every plant, tile, and fountain of the garden, pointing out things that even most _werewolves_ have forgotten and making Derek feel slow and stupid in comparison.

“I wasn't quite sure what I expected, when I volunteered to come here, considering the fact that not many people have ever been invited _inside_ the Lycan Den before... Not that there was a problem with that! I mean, it's not like we've exactly been inviting you all into Beacon Castle, either, huh? I mean, you're showing an awful lot of confidence in us by letting just _me_ in here, considering everything I could learn about and report back to King Scott, or even to one of the less open minded of the Court. Not that I'm going to, of course! I'm just saying... Anyway, do you have _all_ of the strains of feverfew and sage here? I heard from a healer at the castle that-”

As a matter of fact, the only reason that Stiles stops talking is to take a breath, and not due to any effort on Derek's part.

“Are we to see this much interest from other members of the Court, or did you study up before you arrived here?” Laura's presence startles Stiles so much that he jumps, but Derek had heard her coming-had even mouthed a silent plea for help from her, despite knowing that he'd probably get teased for it later-and gave nothing but a slight nod of his head at her, which earned him a huff of breath from Stiles before what Laura said registered, making the younger male blush as he shifted slightly.

“I _did_ look into expected greetings and traditions, despite some of the Court's rather... **hostile** views towards werewolves,” Stiles' face contorts in a way that suggests he finds the Court's attitude to be a disservice to their kind, his reaction too instinctual and scent too clear to make it seem like an act, “I was hoping to make a good impression and I guess I got a little carried away... It's just something I do, I guess, it's good that you find out about me now...”

The last part is directed at Derek and he has no way of deflecting the conversation, because Laura has once again gone back to her role as shifty chaperone- _ **Thanks a lot for the help!**_ -and has put the respectful distance between them. It doesn't matter that she can still hear them, there is no way that she's going to help him with this; so Derek has to unclog his throat, get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth, and respond to Stiles' statement.

“There are worse things you could be, Emissary, than a little enthusiastic.”

That wasn't a bad answer, was it?

Apparently not, because Stiles is pointing that _smile_ of his at Derek again, something lighting up his eyes as he nods for Derek to continue on their way; it's that something that almost makes the older man want to link their fingers together as they continue around the Hale territory, never mind what Laura might say or tease him about later, that something that comes the closest to making him forget every bad thing Kate had ever said about him.

He doesn't do it though; he keeps his hands clenched into fists at his sides and follows Stiles around to the fountain that sits at the very border of the Lycan land, with Beacon Castle a mere artful wisp on the horizon.

Stiles makes a high pitched noise that sounds like it almost hurt coming out of his throat as he nearly _sprints_ to the fountain, somehow not falling on his face as he takes off his boots while practically _skipping_ the last few steps before he settles himself on the edge, feet hitting the water with a splash that drenches the surrounding foliage in an utter _tsunami_ while miraculously missing the man sitting at its edge.

The expression on Derek's face when Stiles looks back at him causes Stiles' shoulders to rise up to his ears as he defends himself with, “I'll have you know that I _ran_ here and then your mother asked me to walk around the garden with you. Not everyone has werewolf healing powers and stamina, you know, some of us are merely human.”

“If you were against walking out here, you were within your right to say so, Emissary.” Derek settles himself beside the man, his own feet staying on the ground and with his back to the fountain, amusing himself with watching as Stiles scoops up a bit of water to splash his face with, a few stray drops sliding down the column of his neck; he _does_ look a bit flushed and they haven't even been walking that fast, his boots _are_ caked with dirt when Derek glances over to them, so perhaps it might have been better for Stiles to stay in the cooler encampment of the Den...

“No, no, that wasn't it!” Stiles' flailing reassurance just about lands him in the fountain and it's only through Derek's quick reflexes that he doesn't have to walk home a sodden mess; his hand snaps out almost without thought to grip the younger male by the arm, thin muscles tensing under his touch as Stiles' own hand grasps at him as well while the Emissary regains his balance, the blush from earlier dusting his cheeks as he quickly points out, “I was just glad that this was out here; I don't mind that I was asked to walk with you, I wanted to learn a little bit more about the man that looked as uncomfortable in that room as I was.”

Now Derek can feel _his_ face burning as his gaze drops to his lap, upset with himself that his discomfort showed so clearly; this was an Emissary, and not just _any_ Emissary, one sent directly from the King! He should have been more careful to show the proper respect, not look like the man's presence was some sort of chore or trial he has to suffer through! It is this thought that makes Derek release the arm that he realizes he is still holding, transferring both hands to the respectful position of his knees and ducking his head slightly in deference. “I'm just not comfortable in situations that require talk, Emissary, I let my actions speak for me and you looked far from uncomfortable when you were speaking to my family.”

“Well, I had an impression to make, now didn't I?” Stiles' smirk is a mere ghost of his earlier smiles and Derek finds that he doesn't really like it, nor does he like the way that the Emissary looks down at the water, but before he can change the subject or find some way to distract the younger male, Stiles continues with, “I'm not really fond of this whole arranged marriage deal, anyway.”

Derek's heart sinks all the way to the soles of his boots, something vile and sharp lodging in his chest and making it hard to breathe.

He had thought-

Maybe this time would-

Stiles, however, does not notice the despair that has awoken in Derek's heart and the war he's having trying not to let it show on his face; he just continues speaking as he waves his arms again, “I mean, how can someone be expected to be just _traded in_ like they're a piece of land or property for the sake of a treaty? Merely expected to have children and do nothing but care for them every day, having more whenever their partner decides it's convenient? What kind of person would even _want_ that kind of life for themselves?!?”

“I would.”

“ _What_?!?”

It was the fact that Stiles was upset about the arrangement's rules, rather than Derek himself, had caused a buzzing sound to swell in the werewolf's ears until he couldn't hear another word the brunet said; it wasn't until the word 'children' was uttered that Derek's attention had snapped back to Stiles' rant, remembering when Cora was born and the smaller children that made up the rest of their Pack, the ones that seemed so innocent of the ways of the world.

The small hearts that didn't care that Derek was worthless, only that he agreed to play with them and take care of them when they were hurt...

“I wouldn't mind caring for children,” He turns to Stiles, a little unnerved by the way that the Emissary is staring at him; his jaw was clenched, almost as if he's biting back words he wants to say, questions he wants to demand the answers to and it makes Derek feel like he needs to clarify just what he means, but instead of what he was originally going to say-which was that he would care for Stiles' child, no matter how they came to be-what came out was, “I wouldn't mind caring for _our_ children.”

Stiles' jaw drops and Derek's gaze is once more focused on his lap as he fights the mortification that is trying to get him to flee back to the safety of the Den; _why_ had he said that?!? Was not Stiles _just_ ranting about the fact that he did not like the thought of someone being made to have and care for children? Maybe that was his way of saying that _he_ had no time for children and hated that he was expected to have them, that Derek shouldn't expect any children either.

The thought of being without his own child causes that vile feeling from earlier to well in Derek's chest again, even more so when his mind brings up the thought of a small boy with wild brunet hair and bright, inquisitive eyes that show every single emotion that goes through his head... or a curly haired little girl with his eyes, but Stiles' smile...

“I-” Stiles swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement, and Derek can feel himself tense as he waits for the ax to fall; no doubt Stiles has just realized how very different they are and no longer wants anything to do with Derek or his family, or he's about to tell Derek that he needs to change his attitude if this agreement is ever going to work and to never say stupid things like that ever again.

It's very clear that Stiles is going to say _something_ when he opens his mouth again, but the ringing of the chapel bell from Beacon Castle cuts him off as a panicked expression overcomes his face.

“Damnation! I told the King that I would be back earlier than this!” Stiles surges out of the fountain, one hand balanced on the stonework so that he does not fall again, and hops over to his boots as he attempts to shake the water off of his feet. “If I stay for much longer, he'll get worried and send out a search party! And I _know_ the people that will get sent and I can say, without any over exaggeration, that would be very, _very_ bad!”

In one fluid motion Derek raises up from his seat, places a hand against Stiles' arm to steady him before the Emissary manages to overbalance himself into getting a face full of dirt, Stiles barely managing to give him a nod as he struggles with his boots. He brings his hands behind his back in a soldier’s stance when Stiles is upright and turning to leave, Laura appearing from wherever it was that she disappeared to as Derek intones, “Then we better get you back to the castle as quickly as we can, Emissary.”

Stiles has that look that very clearly shows that he wants to say something, an expression that Derek has a hard time reading overcomes his features when they end up standing face to face, but his eyes dart a quick look to Laura and whatever he sees there stills the words before they can leave his lips; a quiet “Yes, that might be best.” is his only reply before he follows them back towards the Den, completely silent for the first time since he arrived.

It's... really unnerving to have all of Stiles' chatter just _stop_ and despite the fact that he's only spent a handful of hours in the other man's presence, a quiet Stiles seems almost unnatural, perhaps even something that doesn't happen all that often.

The fact that he had picked that up enough to worry about it really should have been Derek's first clue.

They are passing by some secluded gazebos that Derek vaguely remembered from a gathering that had happened back when his father was still alive when two things happen at once; Laura speeds up to disappear from his view so fast that Derek is suddenly suspicious of what she's up to and Stiles somehow uses his minor lapse in attention to pull him into one of the gazebos, push him against one of the support pillars, and press his lips against Derek's before he can even open his mouth to ask what the hell was going on with the two of them.

Derek freezes with his arms out to the side in an effort to balance himself, unsure where this came from or even what he should do with the body that is now firmly pressed against him, warm mouth breathing in his surprised exhale-

_**”You're not very good at this, are you?”** _

-it's not that he _minds_ Stiles kissing him, one hand gently cupping Derek's face, nervousness almost overcoming the slight tinge of fear that has snuck into Stiles' scent, a scent that is covering Derek like one of the blankets his mother made him when he was small-

_**”I think we should probably just skip the kissing, Derek. I guess there's some things you just can't teach.”** _

-and Stiles' lips are soft and warm, the barest pressure against his own and yet Derek feels as if Stiles wanted, he could stand there all day, kissing Derek as if he's breathing him in... Kate's kisses had been demanding and rushed, as if she was in a hurry to get to the other stuff, and the contrast is so overwhelming that it takes Derek _forever_ to realize that he's still just standing there, **completely frozen** , but by then it's far too late.

Stiles has already pulled away, his face redder than it was before, and he will not look Derek in the eye.

 **Damn**.

Derek opens his mouth, whether to apologize for not responding to Stiles or ask the Emissary to kiss him again, he doesn't know and doesn't get a chance to find out because Stiles interrupts him.

“I'm sorry,” Stiles' tone, chagrined and mortified, causes Derek's eyebrows to fly to his hairline in surprise and that just makes things worse, because Stiles takes that moment to finally look at him and his face gets even more heated as he continues to stammer, “I -I shouldn't have presumed that you would- I mean, you barely know me and it's not like I expect- I _told_ you I get carried away and you're just so... uh, you're not what I expected. At all.”

Is that a good thing? That _has_ to be a good thing, or Stiles wouldn't have kissed him...

...Right?

Yet Stiles is still looking at him like he just shot the man's horse, so Derek figures he needs some sort of reassurance for something, but his mouth wont work with him because it's still _burning_ with the sensation of Stiles' lips and all he can really offer at that moment is a kind of jerky nod that still manages to make Stiles' posture loosen as he lets out a heavy sigh.

Laura pops up again and Derek is getting _really tired_ of her reappearing-disappearing act, but Stiles looks extremely relieved to see her so he doesn't comment on it like he wants to, but gives her a look that says she _will_ be explaining why she was fluttering around like a deranged butterfly and always somehow managing to show up right after he's made an utter ass of himself.

His sister simply smirks at him, not at all intimidated by his glare or the low growl that follows as she chirps, “There is someone at the border asking for you, Emissary. Says his name is Greenburg...”

“For all that you hold holy, do _not_ let him past there!” Despite the panicked way Stiles utters these words, there is a note of affection in his tone that keeps the tension at bay and makes something in Derek's stomach pinch; it's clear that these two have a long history together, and that Stiles has had to deal with whatever this man has come up with on more than one occasion. “If it took this long for him to fix that damn chariot, I'm a little worried about the damage he might cause this place!”

“Is he... a simpleton?”

“No, he's just a little overeager and a bit clumsy, so most of the things he does aren't really his fault,” Stiles' tone has grown even more affectionate as he shakes his head in a way that Laura apparently knows very well, if the sudden grin she gives Stiles is anything to go by, but Derek is really starting to get annoyed by this man and he hasn't even _met_ him! This is not a good thing; if his possessiveness is starting to show up already... “I think it'd be better if you tell him I'm on my way and assure him when he asks-because he _will_ ask-that I am perfectly fine and simply lost track of time.”

Laura's grin grows more leering, which makes both Derek and Stiles' face heat up when her gaze sweeps between the two of them, even more so when “I bet you did.” is her only comment before she makes her way back to whatever pit she crawled out of for the express purpose of making Derek's life miserable; he's still convinced that the reason they ended up with someone like her in the family is because his mother was in debt to a demon and was charged with raising it's spawn with her own pups.

It was either that, or Laura just hated him on principle.

With a heavy sigh directed at the entire mess that was his life, Derek shook his head free of his troublesome sister and simply waited for Stiles to move; the way they were standing meant that the only way he was getting past the younger male was if he shoved him aside and something told Derek that would be just _asking_ for trouble...

“You still have yet to tell me anything about yourself.” The statement catches Derek off guard; he really hadn't expected the Emissary to speak to him _at all_ now that his escort was here, and it must have shown rather expressively in Derek's surprised blink if the huff of air Stiles released was anything to go by, his fingers idly picking at Derek's shirt. “I mean, everything you ever offered was because of something I brought up so I was curious if there was anything I should know about you.”

_**Something about me? What should I share that would even interest someone like you? That I enjoy the sight of your smile, despite knowing you for only a few hours? Your inability to let silence stand makes me hope that you wont let me wallow in the quiet of my own thoughts? Or the almost certainty that terrifies me; that I'm going to do something to screw this up, just like everything else I've ever done in my life?** _

In the end, Derek simply shakes his head in a soft denial before stating, “I'm not very interesting, Emissary.”

The laugh that follows that statement is much like the one that Derek had heard earlier that day; soft and warm, without a hint of mockery in it, allowing him to think that perhaps Stiles misunderstood what he meant and thinks-wrongly, oh so wrongly-that Derek was _flirting_ with him and trying to sound modest; for the first time in that entire day, Derek is glad that Laura isn't close enough to hear this, because he just _knows_ she would laugh at him as well.

Only she wouldn't be as nice about it.

“I very sincerely doubt that, Derek.” Stiles' hands drop and he turns before Derek can answer, leaving the werewolf a little lightheaded, as well as missing the effect that his words have on the Hale heir; a full body shiver travels the entirety of Derek's frame, the intrigue and promise held in Stiles' tone slipping through his veins like strong wolfwine, making him feel hopeful for the future in a way he thought he never would when his mother first approached him about this whole thing.

The feeling carries him all the way to their border and through his very formal farewell to the Emissary, Stiles' eyes alight with a secret that not even Derek knows, making him forget until the chariot has disappeared on the horizon that Stiles' words also held the first time that he had used Derek's name.

\--------------------

\----------------

\------------

That could have gone a little better.

Stiles slumped in the chariot, ignoring Greenburg's inquiry to his health as he reviewed the day that he just had; it had started out the way it normally did whenever Stiles was sent out to speak with one of the neighboring kingdoms, with Scott going over all the different ways that he could signal them if Stiles needed saving or a show of muscle, barely being talked out of sending a few soldiers to make sure that the roads stayed clear of highwaymen and thieves.

It was Scott's way of showing that he cared about Stiles without any of the more ill-tempered Lords and Ladies claiming favoritism, so he didn't complain or point out the various times he came back-not only completely and utterly unharmed-but with _multiple_ treaties under his belt and even a few new subjects that liked what they heard of Scott's kingdom so much that they followed Stiles back to it. By the Goddess' Grace, the only reason Scott and Allison even _met_ is because Stiles invited her family to see the 'legendary kingdom of misfits' themselves, leading to the instant connection between the pair!

He desperately hopes that Scott remembers that when he outlines how much of a failure this trip was...

Generally speaking, it wasn't all bad; he had met the elusive Lycans, was allowed inside their _Den_ , and had made great strides in clearing up the treaty that had been writ up between the two since before even _Deaton_ was born. It was when he came to the second reason that he had been sent there that Stiles had mucked everything up, accumulating in the slumped position that was starting to make Greenburg question if 'those damn savages' had somehow poisoned him.

Snapping at the idiot driving his chariot to stop letting his fears override his common sense and watch the damn road, Stiles straightens as he remembers the way that Derek had looked when his mother first suggested they walk together; he had caught the panicked expression out of the corner of his eye and had put it down to Derek being worried about offending a messenger of the King, since the man hadn't really said much at the luncheon either, but maybe there was just something about _Stiles_ that he hadn't liked.

Pressing a finger to his lips, Stiles reconsiders that to 'maybe he just doesn't like getting molested unawares' instead; he _had_ starting opening up a bit as they had walked, offering up a fact here and there about himself before the 'gazebo incident'...

He hadn't been kidding when he had told Derek that the werewolf wasn't what he was expecting; when he had first heard of the Lycan's offer of peace through a marriage bond, he _had_ been livid, offended at the thought of someone being forced into something that would only benefit their people and not the two involved. He had ranted at Scott for _hours_ about that very thing, pointing out that one or the other of the Pairing might be abusive, manipulative, or just downright _wrong_ for the other and they would have to suffer through a sham of a life or faced being disgraced.

Scott had listened to him rant, humming in encouragement and bringing him wine whenever his throat became too dry, and tried to explain that he was _trying_ to change that law enough that if any of the previous Pairings was an unhealthy one, that either of the partners could speak out without any shame being laid upon them. He had also pointed out that, for the Lycans, the marriage proposal was _a really big deal_ because of how protective they were of their own and the thought of one being in a harmful relationship was tantamount to an insult to the Alpha herself.

“Alright, so whoever gets this Lycan as their Pair is going to basically have the Goddess' blessing,” Stiles remembers himself saying, some of the anger that had fueled him disappearing with the reminder of the very clear reason so many had come to Beacon, the reason that their kingdom had a very fitting name, “What about on our side, Scott? So many people want these werewolves dead, for one reason or another, how are we going to be sure they don't get the short end of the stick?”

“I really don't think anyone would _hurt_ the Lycan's representative, Stiles; I mean, not when there are monthly meetings with both families-or kingdoms, in this case-to make sure the union is healthy...”

Scott's reply makes Stiles want to both hug him and hit him over the head for his damning _optimism_ and belief that everyone is as goodhearted as he is; they had just _barely_ avoided a war with the Lycans when Lady Argent had turned up dead, throat slashed in an obvious werewolf attack, things tense between the Queen and King when Scott claimed that there must be a rogue Pack in the surrounding area and did not immediately start a war cry on the Hale Pack.

It had taken a lot of compromising between their Majesties to make some sort of peace there as well as with the Hale Pack, considering the fact that many had seemed it extremely suspicious that half of them left almost immediately after the death, with Gerard Argent leading the more vocal in that regard...“You know there are more ways to harm someone than just the physical, Scott, as well as the fact that those 'meetings' aren't always foolproof.”

That was how they ended up with the triad that made up the top members of the Royal Guard, if Stiles remembers correctly; Issac Lahey had been part of an abusive Pairing set up by his father and had only been freed from it when Scott had challenged his Pair on his claim that Issac 'enjoyed it', the flinch that traveled Issac's entire frame when that was said snapping Scott's restraint faster then anything Stiles had ever seen that didn't involve Allison in some way.

Issac was now Scott and Allison's _personal_ guard and Stiles was starting to hear rumors that he took the 'personal' part more literally than others might...

Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd were also forced into their Pairings, coming to Scott when they found each other and realized that there was a way to have the love that both could clearly see was lacking in their other relationships; Scott had managed to get them free on the technicality that since neither had consummated their Pairings, they were technically void and they could therefore Pair with each other, surprisingly receiving no resistance from the other parties involved.

They were now the Co-Captains of the Guard-a mixture of both men and women at Erica's insistence-and if the Ladies of the Court were to be believed, and they were surprisingly well informed, Erica was due to have her first child in the next couple of months.

Stiles had been drawn out of his thoughts by Scott's defeated growl, looking up just in time to see his King run his fingers frustratedly through his hair, making it stand on end and giving him the look of one of the stray puppies that Boyd had found on patrol. Stiles just barely managed to keep his laughter in, and that was only because they were dealing with a serious issue still, and he knew it wouldn't help if he started giggling. “I don't know what to do, then! Half of my Court wants them all dead, and I'm never sure if the person I'm talking to may be one of them because not all of them are as _vocal_ as Gerard is, but they're no less mean and I don't want to have a war on my hands... I don't want to send anyone I care about into battle...”

“Then you should Pair them with me.”

Scott's eyes snap from where he was staring dejectedly at the floor to Stiles' face, his expression not getting any better on the journey there, but Stiles stands his ground and holds his best friend gaze. “ _What_? What in the Deamon's Hellfire are you talking about? There's no way that I'm-”

“You said it yourself; there's no way of knowing that the person you're sending has everyone's best interests at heart-”

“-if you think I'm going to _make_ you do this-”

“You're not _making_ me do anything, Scott, I _just_ volunteered, in case you missed that-”

“Stiles, you've always talked about finding a _love match_ , just like your parents! You-”

“I know what I said, Scott, but this is more important-”

“More important than your own _happiness and well-being_?!? How despicable must I be to have you even _think_ -”

“If you would just _listen_ to what I'm saying instead of interrupting me, I would be able to tell you what it is that I think, _Your Majesty_!” Scott's jaw clicked shut at that, mutinous look still dominating his features as he defiantly crossed his arms, but they had established years ago that if Stiles ever had to use Scott's title while in an argument, it meant that what he wanted to say was important and had to be taken seriously; which, in turn, meant that Scott had to stop yelling at him for five seconds so he can get his point across. “While I understand and love the fact that you're willing to put my happiness above the welfare of your kingdom, really speaks levels about how you view our friendship-”

Scott had snorted-with an eye roll thrown in for good measure-but stayed quiet when Stiles had glared at him, so he continued on with his speech and hoped he was doing the right thing by jumping into this with both feet, not just throwing himself to the wolves like some sort of human sacrifice.

Literally.

“-I know that this treaty is something that _needs_ to happen; I don't want to have us in a war, either, not with most of my friends either in your army or leading it. I _know_ I said I wanted a love match, Scott, but I also know that we don't always get what we want, or Boyd and Erica would have found each other a lot sooner, Issac wouldn't have had to deal with that waste of space his father pushed on him, and I would have found my Pair already. I can wish and hope all I want, but _I **know**_ that going into this will at least keep both parties in a stable relationship and we can show the naysayers that the Lycans are not mindless beasts that need to be dispatched of. I mean, what better way show how much we trust them, then having one be Paired to your very own Emissary, who many know you would willingly die for?”

Scott had looked like he had wanted to interrupt multiple times during Stiles' speech, had even opened his mouth before remembering his promise and closing it again, but he ended up staying silent through the whole thing and when Stiles finished there was nothing more he could do but nod dejectedly as his entire posture just _dropped_.

“I wish there was another way...”

“I know.”

And Stiles did, he knew that Scott _hated_ this part of being a King, and that he hated that _Stiles_ was the one on the short end of the stick this time...

Even if that wasn't the case, Stiles would still know; he would know it in the way that Scott had looked like his legs could barely support the weight he carried, the way his King's expression had been trapped and upset when Stiles had offered himself to be nothing more than a pawn in this game, the quiet way that the Queen and Lord Lahey had immediately _knew_ that something was wrong when they had entered the chamber later and were instantly drawn to him.

Scott had always tried to hide whenever things went bad around them, his warrior-Queen that always took up arms whenever he was upset and his quiet Lieutenant that still held the fear that they would throw him away, so for them to to realize that there was something wrong before Scott even _spoke_ said a lot about how much he _did not_ like this plan.

Stiles leaves then, not willing to intrude on the peace that he can tell Scott will get being in the combined presences of Queen Allison and Lord Lahey(those rumors are really starting to gain more weight than Stiles had originally thought); besides, there are things he needs to study and questions he needs to ask of Healer Deaton...

The days after that had been a flurry of activity and debates to sooth the feathers of the Court that thought the whole idea was madness; those were the days that Stiles wished that Scott was a less benevolent King and just demanded that they listened to him, Scott admitting to him in a space between meeting that there were moments when he had thought of doing that very thing, but he breathed easier when they all agreed that the Lycan that was to be Stiles' Pair would be kept under a _very_ close watch.

“Who _is_ this Lycan?” A random member of the Court had called out, too many other Lords also demanding answers for Stiles to be able to pin the voice to a face. “Do we even know who this savage is that we're giving up one of our best to?!?”

Stiles would have been flattered if he didn't know that these same people had scoffed at him only a day ago.

“This _man_ is the Alpha's _son_ , almost as good as a _Prince_ in our terms, and is treated as such even by his own people.” This had been news to Stiles, who had tried to not let it show as he straightened under all the attention and whispers that statement had caused; Scott had to call the hall to order _twice_ before it had quieted enough to continue, his voice carrying a tone that _dared_ someone to contradict him. “As it is, Emissary Stiles will be in talks with the Lycans before their representative comes _here_ to live, so if anyone is losing one of their best, it is the Lycans _themselves_.”

There is not _total_ silence after that, Gerard still looks murderous and there are more than a couple of Lords muttering angrily in the back, but the discontent has faded enough from the assembly that the rest of the issues brought forward were dealt with in a much more reasonable manner; well, reasonable for the Court that has a homicidal xenophobe as one of it's founding members, making Stiles wonder where Queen Allison inherited her stately calm...

Be that as it may, Stiles still exits the Court with time enough to speak to Healer Deaton about his upcoming meeting and Pairing with the Lycan heir; while there still is something about the mystic that makes Stiles wary around him, Deaton _has_ been an invaluable source when it comes to Lycan tradition and rituals, informing Stiles much more thoroughly than their own library can meagerly offer and only throwing random information at him that makes him want to strangle the man every so often.

Like this Pairing may be just be _it_ for the Lycan he's going to meet.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Stiles?” Deaton's tone had been even more somber than it usually was, making the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck stand at attention and pulling him away from the illustration of a werewolf's transformation in one of the many grimories that Deaton 'just happen to have lying around', “I trust that you understand how very important this Pairing is, to both Scott and the Lycan Kingdom, and that this is not something to be entered into lightly?”

“What is it with everyone and their sire thinking that I am a complete simpleton and unaware of how crucial this is?!?” Stiles' outburst did nothing to shake the stern way that Deaton was staring at him, so he sighed heavily and began to list the ways he was _very aware_ of the standing this particular Pairing had, “Let me see, am I suppose to point out that this will be the first Pairing between the Kingdoms that anyone has knowingly heard of? That it's the only thing keeping us from war? Or how about-?”

“I was speaking of the fact that this might not only be a Pairing between the two of you,” Deaton had stated in that level way of his that just makes Stiles hate him even more, his brow raised in his 'I-am-judging-you-for-not-being-rational-about-this' expression, a look that he seems to have saved exclusively for when Stiles visits him, “but it might also be a Lycan Mating, as well.”

“A what?” He had come across the phrase in one of these books, skimming over it as he had studied traditional greetings and whether or not he was expected to kill something with his bare hands, but Deaton wasn't really talking about what he thought the Healer was... was he?

“Much like their lupine relatives, Lycans only truly Mate once,” Deaton had spun the book he was reading toward Stiles, why it just happened to be about Lycan Mating or how he even had so many books about 'the disgusting monsters' when it had taken Stiles half a day to find even _one_ book in their own library had been something that Stiles never received a straight answer for, but he was too intrigued by the text laying out the particulars of just what a Mating bond would entail to press the issue. “It's true that they may Pair with someone to forge a treaty or merge Packs, but a Mating is very rare and is much like what we wish our own Human Pairings to be; a complete and utter bond to one person, for the rest of their life.”

“Like my dad.” Stiles' throat had been almost too tight to let the words through, remembering how the first painful years after his mother had passed had been, struck with the thought of a faceless Lycan howling and dragging himself around if the worst should happen by Stiles following in her footsteps. It had made him feel sick and his breathing quicken, a hand pressed against his chest as he tried to ease the sudden pounding of his heart. “Y-you said that Matings are rare, right? Why are you telling me this if it probably wont even happen?”

“I am just letting you know all the possibilities, Emissary Stiles,” Deaton had replied, placing a hand on his shoulder and surprisingly easing some of the panic that had threatened to take hold of him, making him breathe a little easier with each passing moment. “I know that you have a very firm grasp of the importance this treaty has for our side, as well as what it might entail for you personally, I was just making sure that you knew what it might hold for our Lycan allies as well...”

Perhaps that was why Derek had been so tense when Stiles had kissed him? Aside from the initial surprise, was there any other reason that he had for not responding? Maybe he believed that their Pairing was simply a state affair? No, he had claimed to want to care for their children, and he had specified _their_ children, so there must have been some other reason...

Stiles is jerked rather sharply out of his remembrance by the chariot giving the very same lurch that had signaled it going off course the first time, complete with Greenburg releasing a string of curses as the right wheel flies off its axis and the whole thing veers sharply to the left, Stiles joining Greenburg in his shouting when the chariot tips on it's side and dumps the pair in front of the gates of Beacon Castle to the extreme amusement of the guards on duty.

“Well,” Stiles coughs, trying to unpin his legs from underneath Greenburg's not inconsiderable weight, the man in question offering up apology after apology as his desperate wiggling only managed to trap Stiles even farther, “that really rounds up this day. The only way that this could be any worse would be-”

“Stiles!”

With a hearty sigh only the truly defeated can understand, Stiles lets his head fall back to the ground as he hears the King, the Co-Captains of the Guard, and Lord Lahey run to his prone form, Greenburg getting even more flustered the closer they come; it gets so bad that Stiles twists his head to the guard that is _still laughing at him_ and asks, “I don't suppose you could stab me right now-seriously, like right this second-so I don't have to live through this humiliation?”

The bastard only laughs _louder_ as Stiles aims a halfhearted kick at Greenburg's chest, a cacophony of voices arguing over his head, making him wish that this day was just _over_ already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, this was such a pain to write; it was originally going to be about Stiles and Derek being dorks around each other, but then it kinda _morphed_ on me and refused to behave when I chased after it.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to tell me if it seems clunky or out-of-place and I'll try to fix it!


	3. The Home Front

A family of visiting Lycans, with the Alpha leading the way, was something of a ceremony and more than a little bit of a nightmare when trying to find the right guards to escort them to Beacon without there being any assassination attempts along the way. Needless to say, Scott was glad that this will only be for a week, and then there would only be a few hours of meetings once every month, because he sincerely doubted that he could deal with this every single day...

Now, it was true that he was trying to get interactions between the two Kingdoms on a more peaceable level, but there were times that he believed that it might be a lost cause; while the younger Lords and Ladies were of the same mind as him, tired of the fighting and willing to look beyond the actions the Lycans had taken in the past to judge them on the ways they interacted in the future, most of his Court was full of an older generation that was unwilling to see them as anything other than vicious animals that needed to be obliterated off the map.

This treaty, with the Pairing of his best friend/confidant/brother-in-all-but-blood and the Lycan heir, was a step in the right direction and-like Stiles had said, _multiple times_ in a single day-a way to show the doubters that there _was_ a way for the two Kingdoms to be at peace.

It did _not_ , however, mean that Scott had to like it.

Even though he knows that he needs to be impartial in all of this.

That his only interest should be as a King, and not as anything else.

 _ **If only**_.

He had grown up with Stiles, had met the man just after the horrible tragedy that was his mother's passing, and had immediately been taken by the fact that he still could smile after something so heartbreaking as losing your parent; true, Stiles still had his father, but he had been closest to his mother before her passing and Stiles had confided in Scott-when both men were far too into their cups to have any filter over what passed their lips-that there were times when he thought that his father would rather his mother be there instead of him... that he thought that there was some way to switch their fates...

Needless to say, Scott had latched onto Stiles even more so after that confession-which he swore by the Goddess and Her Eternal Glory to never tell another living soul, _especially_ Stiles' father-and their bond was as close as two people could be without Pairing to each other, something that Stiles had endlessly teased Scott about before he had met his Queen and only once after to playfully ask if they were interested in becoming a triad.

(It makes telling him about the truth about Lord Lahey, wonderful and unexpected surprise that he is, all the harder these days...)

(Although, Scott is pretty sure that Stiles already knows and has thankfully- _worryingly_ -not said anything about it.)

(The man is **devastatingly** perceptive when he chooses to be.)

The part of him that is simply Scott, that grew up running through the halls of Beacon chasing after the bony specter of his friend in front of him, that never even knew that being a Prince meant that he needed to 'separate himself from those of lower class', that laughed in those old coot's faces when they tried to take away the only friend he ever had, wants to end this before it begins and tell everyone gathered that they can all stuff it, damn the consequences that follow.

The part of him that is King, however...

Sighing heavily, Scott runs a hand over his face and tries not to let his frustration at these proceedings show; it is not the Lycans' fault that he wishes that this Pairing wasn't happening, that there had been some other way for this treaty to hold weight in his Court, that he wasn't basically selling the closest thing he has to a brother just because some old fools are too set in their ways to see past the forms the Lycans wear and focus on what their actions say instead.

There have been many days this past week that have him wishing for the time when his biggest fear was the cook catching Stiles and him filching food from the kitchen...

A soft grumble followed by a sharply worded reply to his left informs Scott that he is not the only one unhappy with the upcoming meeting; a quick glance out of the corner of his eye shows him Stiles and his father in a rather heated argument that consists mostly of hissed whispers, with an occasional eye roll or huff of breath, the older of the pair looking more upset as the minutes past. 

When Lord Johnathan Stilinski had been informed of his son's Pairing - which Scott had left entirely up to Stiles, despite his friend's pleading; he may be King, but Lord Stilinski was a rather imposing figure that Scott was still a little scared of - the war hero had been less than pleased, not even when Stiles had tried to point out the opportunities for peace that the marriage would open up. Much like Scott, Lord Stilinski was more concerned with his son's happiness than the added benefits of a marriage of convenience and, going by the heated way both men were waving their arms about, that discussion had yet to be resolved by either man... 

Another soft sound, this time to his right, lets Scott know that his Queen is also part of the group that is unhappy with the upcoming visitation, her reasoning just as personal as the Stilinski's; he had fought hard with the Council to avoid a war with the Hale Pack when Lady Argent was killed, keeping his Queen out of the meetings to spare her the pain of hearing about her Aunt's last moments over and over again, misinterpreting her silence as grieving instead of an anger growing more force with every passing hour... 

Those had been dark days, the days that Lord Gerard claimed more hours with his granddaughter because they needed 'time to heal as a family' with Scott agreeing because he did not want his wife to suffer alone and he believed there was nothing he could say to her, her silence in his presence starting to depress and worry him... It was only when he had asked Stiles to speak with her, to give her someone that understood what it meant to lose a family member so abruptly, that he found out about their plan to attack the Hale Pack behind his back. 

He had coldly informed Gerard that until the man was King, there would be no war on their Lycan neighbors and that he was lucky Scott was a benevolent ruler who would dismiss his actions as the emotional thoughtlessness brought on by the death of his daughter; Gerard had been wise enough to see the threat for what it was and did not actively seek out to destroy the Lycans himself again, just merely stir up others' distaste for them and let them speak out in his stead. 

Scott did not speak to his Queen until they were in the privacy of their own chamber and the guards found themselves other duties to focus on, waited until her interrupted retribution has dimmed to the sullen silence that has overtaken her every action lately, waited until she had finished pacing the entirety of their chambers and is just glaring at him as if he is the root of all her problems to softly question, “Why did you not tell me you were feeling this way? Why go behind my back?” 

Her answer was thrust from her lips as deadly as the way she wields her blades, making Scott's heart lurch at the pain that she must have been feeling all this time, the agony that drove her to listen to Gerard's madness. “She was my Aunt, Scott, my flesh and blood! I thought that _my husband_ would understand why I want the _animals_ responsible for her death to be punished for it!” 

“ _Your husband **does**_ understand wanting to see her killers brought to justice, would be more than willing to help you bring death upon their heads, but your husband is also _a King_ and he cannot let vengeance drive his actions, or this entire kingdom will be nothing but _ashes_!”

“Why are you so determined to protect those monsters?!?”

“Because all we have to tie them to Lady Kate's murder is the slashes across her throat!” Scott can't help but wince in sympathy at the flinch that traverses Allison's body at his words, but he needs to make her understand why he cannot have them on opposite sides on this, both personally and for the Kingdom's sake. “There are many things in our land that might have done that, many things that leave no mark and would be _made_ to look like that! I want to find out who killed her, I have been arguing and fighting to find out more about it for _weeks_ now, but I _can **not**_ focus on what everyone says is true and condemn an entire race to death because of fear! I _need to be certain_ or I am no better than the creatures that killed her!”

Breathing heavily after his outburst, Scott had turned away from Allison and started going through the papers on his desk, not seeing any of the trades or treaties that are written upon them; his mind is a fractured mirror of thoughts and arguments that he could be making, theories that have been laid before him and meetings that prove one thing or another, but he can say nothing as he waited for his Queen to respond to his plea of understanding.

“I miss her, Scott, so much...”

The lost note in his Queen's voice, the tremble in her soul that she has been hiding for so long, causes Scott's head to drop forward even as Allison's arms encircle him from behind. After a few minutes of silence, Allison rests her head in the space between his shoulders as she whispers, “Hating the Lycans seemed so much easier than not knowing what happened to her, or if whatever killed her would come back and take you away from me as well.”

Scott had gripped her hands then, the cold metal of her Pairing band - a band that he had spent hours with Stiles and Deaton working on to make sure it was the perfect material, that the protective runes coincided with one another and didn't reflect anything disastrous in his Pair's history - digging into his palm as he whispered, “They would have a one way trip to the Deamon's Pit if they tried!”

Allison had laughed then, a reedy sound, and had held him all the tighter for his attempt at humor; he wanted to tell her that he wasn't going anywhere, not now that he had found her and all the happiness that she brought him, but their Pairing was still new and he was unsure as to if she would have seen that as mere patronizing instead of the truth that it was.

(Later, when they have been Paired long enough that the inclusion of Lord Lahey brings nothing but more joy, he learns that she _does_ believe that he loves her so.)

Scott is drawn out of his memories by the Castle cryer saying that the Lycans had been spotted on the horizon, his own gaze picking up their chariots as they kick up dust, steadily approaching like an oncoming storm.

Taking another quick glance to his left and seeing that the Stilinski men have stopped their argument at the cryer's voice, but look no less appeased on _either_ side, Scott wills himself a bit of calmness at what he knows is going to be a rather _long_ day.

\------------------

\----------------

\--------------

The Lycans are _not_ the problem.

Lord Johnathan Stilinski has been in many wars, has seen the damages that both Men and Others have caused, and can say with complete and utter honesty that he has seen Men be just as-if not more so-vicious as the 'animals' that they vilify and call for death upon; Gerard is one of the more deadly of these, with his position and the calm, grandfatherly facade that he puts before the Court covering up the more bloodthirsty part of the Lord's dealings...

So the fact that his son is being Paired with a Lycan of the Hale Pack is _not the problem_.

John watches as the Lycans step toward the gathering that had been slowly drawing more attention as the hours had passed; they are all a rather beautiful group, lean and muscular in a way that speaks of their more deadly side, and he isn't surprised to see a few of his kinsmen start to whisper amongst themselves as they openly ogle the women in the group. It is no less a shock when a few of the Ladies of the Court follow their counterpart's example when one of the older males gives a salacious wink to the ones closest to him.

He feels like he might have to keep an eye on that one.

The attention is quickly drawn to the woman that is making her way to the King, a man that could be no one but her son trailing in her wake as if he is unsure that he should follow, making a few of the more disagreeable members of the gathering start to mutter, and not in any way that could be considered welcoming...

John, himself, is unsure if he should be any more welcoming than they are and is a father's protectiveness that makes him frown at the male behind the woman-who must be the Alpha-greeting his King, not anything at all to do with the fact that this is the first time that either race has been near each other without bloodshed.

_**Ah, who are you kidding, Stilinski? The warrior in you is just as uneasy about this as the father, just admit it!** _

Scrubbing a hand down his face, John admits to himself that he doesn't like the fact that the only thing that they know about these Lycans are speculations, rumors, and hearsay; for a man who made his way through life-both on and off the battlefield-with strategy and facts, it's a little unnerving being told that he has to trust- _has to give his son over to_ -these people and it's making his nerves stand on edge whenever he thinks about it for too long.

“Here I was thinking that it would be a little harder to find the parent of my son's Pair.”

The voice makes him start, jerking his gaze to the woman that has moved from greeting his King to standing in front of him, giving him a smile that he is all too familiar with when dealing with people that have the misfortune to degrade his son in front of him, although she has perfected the art of making it seem like a normal smile and even would have passed for slightly cheerful if John hadn't had the knowledge of being a father for seventeen years on his side.

“Alpha Hale,” John nods, hoping that his embarrassment isn't showing as he gives the woman in front of him the traditional greeting, “May the Goddess' Blessing be upon you.”

“May Her Blessings be upon you as well,” The Alpha replies, completing the ritual and actually sounding like she means it, which surprises John a little, “and I would be most honored if you would call me Talia, Lord Stilinski.”

“John, then, if we're going to disperse with formality,” Talia chuckles at that, which dispels some of the tension John feels and makes it a little easier for him to say this next part, “So in the spirit of us ignoring all the idle niceties that neither of us seem to want to take the time to muddle through, I would like to say that I have a few misgivings about this particular Pairing, none of which have anything to do with the fact that it is between a Lycan and a Human.”

Talia's eyes are sharp on him as she says, very mildly, “Not a lie, but not entirely the truth either...”

Resisting the urge to rub his hands over his face, John sighs heavily and gives Talia a half-smile, not bothering to ask how she knew that he had lied; Stiles wasn't the only the one that researched the enhanced senses of their new Lycan partners, so he figured she listened to his heartbeat, smelled his unease, or just _looked at his face_.

“That's because, while it is true that I would not mind if there was a Pairing between a Lycan and a Human,” a second's pause allows Talia to hear/smell/see the truth in his statement and she gives him a small nod to continue, “nor do I have anything against you or your son,”- _ **For now**_ , his traitorous mind supplies,-“I'm not fond of the idea of _my_ son being traded off like this... Might have been why he waited to tell me until you were coming to present yourselves and I couldn't do anything about it anyway.”

 _That_ earns him a full blown laugh, as well as the attention from nearly everyone gathered, and John can see Talia's son look over at them with his eyebrows nearly in his hair; it makes Stiles-who is standing right next to the man, much to John's frustration-let loose one of his rare, full body laughs as well, which causes the older man's gaze to snap back to him and for John to miss whatever it is that causes Stiles to go pink mere moments later.

“So that also means that whatever claims I may make about my son and his intentions towards yours would also fall on deaf ears, am I correct?”

Attention once more brought to the Alpha beside him, John is slightly taken aback by the fact that Talia doesn't seem to be angry at his hesitation- _protectiveness_ -and it makes him smile more fully this time as he answers with, “No more than anything I say about my own son's intentions towards your kin, I suppose.”

Talia's answering grin is bright and easy as she once more nods in understanding, not bothering to wax poetic about her son's-John really needs to figure out that kid's name; he knows Stiles told him what it was a couple of times, but he hadn't really been paying attention to that part of the conversation-attributes and how well he would do Paired to Stiles, which John was grateful for, considering they just admitted to not believing a single word the other said pertaining that particular subject.

“Derek.”

For a brief, panicked second, John was almost certain that the woman beside him was psychic as well as uncannily understanding, but then he saw her son's shoulders tense up as he reached out to place a stalling hand on Stiles' shoulder and effectively cutting him off in the middle of whatever story his son was in the midst of telling.

“Come and meet your Pair's father, Derek, there will be plenty of time to woo Stiles later.”

There's an indignant squawk before Derek is spinning around and hissing “ _Mother_!” at pitch that John could hear even if he wasn't watching the spectacle in front of him, causing a few people around Derek to look at him strangely as Stiles tugs on his tunic to get the older werewolf's attention. After a few words-and Stiles' trademark flailing-between the two, Derek's straightens in a way John remembers from his time on the battlefield and begins to make his way to where John is standing.

“Ah, Hellfire,” John mutters when he realizes just _what_ Talia had said; that her son is making his determined way over here to speak with _him_ , that the topic of conversation will be convincing John to hand his son over to someone that they were still negotiating with, that he has almost _no_ personal knowledge of and who half the Court believes to be animals that killed the Queen's Aunt not three summers ago... He hopes the look he gives Talia conveys just how much he is _not_ going to enjoy this.

She laughs again.

John sighs heavily and wishes he had some of the ale that won’t appear until later in the evening.

“Oh, and John?”

He nods at her, Derek pausing in his trek to look between the two of them with a furrow in his brow that makes John realize that this kid-and he _is_ a kid to John, no matter _how_ much of a beard he has; _Greenburg_ has a bit of facial hair, so that was _no_ indication of maturity-has about as much knowledge of Stiles as Stiles does on him, which is to say, not an awful lot and most of which is speculative rumor.

Maybe he shouldn't be considering the boy the enemy until he has reason to, shouldn't give them a reason to hate Humans when they've done nothing wrong...

Talia pauses in whatever it was that she was going to say, seeming to read the revelation that John just had in the shifting of his features, and smiles one more time in a way that would make the other ones seem _tame_ in comparison. “Just one thing; whatever your people have said about our Pack, whatever slander they spit and curses they cry about how deranged and dangerous we are... If your son causes any harm to come to my boy, I will do a thousand times worse.”

John straightens even as he sees Derek's jaw drop, Stiles join him in glancing between their parents but being too far away to hear what being said, not that it stops him from chewing worriedly on his lower lip. “As long as you are aware that I have twenty years on the battlefield to my name and that one of Beacon's major exports is wolfbane. So if _your_ son harms mine in _any_ way, I can't guarantee that he'll make back to your 'Den' in one piece... or at all, to be honest.”

His response makes Talia's grin grow _wider_ and a bit of red to bleed into her vision.

“I like you, John, and I'm glad that we understand each other.” Another little nod and Talia is brushing by her son, who looks like he would like nothing less than to follow her retreating form, to join the King where he's deep in a heated discussion with another one of the Alpha's children and the Queen; it doesn't look like something that needs his attention, which is a relief considering the Queen's stance on their Lycan allies up to this point, but it _has_ become heated enough to draw his son's attention and stopped him from joining in the conversation that John now _has_ to have with the Hale heir.

The Hale heir that has just regained his color from earlier and has finally made his way to John's side, his expression a combination of hopeful and defiant, making John's mouth twist at the resemblance to his own son; he really doesn't need to be reminded that while this kid does have a few years on his own child, he still is as much a pawn in all of this as Stiles is... He has an overwhelming urge to draw the kid away from all these prying eyes, sit him down in one of the conference rooms, and just _talk_ for a few hours.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Stilinski.”

Taking in the stiff, almost military, stance of the young man in front of him and the way that he looks like a prod from a small child would make him shatter, John finds himself wishing for that drink again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Mama Hale and Papa Stilinski have met, Scott is as pleased as a hedgehog with an itch about this, and Derek and Stiles have yet to have any real time together yet...
> 
> Before you guys try to kill me, know that Derek and Stiles will be the focus of the next chapter, so please don't run away!


	4. Welcome to the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The asterisks signify that a werewolf is overhearing something that a normal human could not.
> 
> Also, fair warning; Peter being... well, Peter.

Enough days have passed between the time that Stiles visits the Lycan Den before they are also invited to Beacon Castle-something that Derek is sure that Stiles is to thank for, although he could not tell _how_ he knew, if asked-that the anticipatory feeling that Stiles left in his wake had faded back into a shadowy tense dread that followed Derek around so much that Cora threatened to throw him in the fountain if he spent the day pacing in front of her again.

He couldn't help but feel that there is something _off_ about the way that Stiles had acted around him, the way that he had seemed to make an effort to include Derek in the conversation, ignoring the way Laura had kept coming and going instead of staying where they were.

(Getting a straight answer out of her about whatever the Hellfire that was that didn't include hysterical laughter and a condescending pat on the head that made Derek want to bite her hand was proving to be harder than he thought.)

There was also the way that Stiles had kissed him out of the blue, and then stammered through saying that Derek 'wasn't what he was expecting' and that he tended to 'get carried away', making Derek wonder if the Emissary had enjoyed Derek's form so much that he simply wanted him as a consort; it would fit that Stiles had decided that this Pairing would be worth going through if he was getting a lover out of it, even if it was a Lycan, not knowing that Derek was possibly the worst Lycan he could have chosen...

Hiding his fears from his family was something that Derek had perfected over the days proceeding their visit to Beacon, despite the fact that they could tell that something was wrong. They even went as far as trying to get him to admit it to one of them, with Peter showing his loving side by stating that at least Derek wouldn't have to have long to worry if he screwed up; with Stiles being the King's Emissary, the punishment for disappointing him would _have_ to be beheading, at _least_.

Talia had not been happy hearing that and Peter was still limping from her own 'punishment'.

Those were the times that Derek just wanted to throw himself into his mother's arms to weep out his woes like he had as a child, to have her brush the hair from his face and make everything alright; but he wasn't that little boy anymore and this wasn't something that she had an answer for, anyway.

Talia and Erek's Pairing had been a love match that also solidified their Packs into one, something that Derek had hoped his own Pairing might be in the future; unfortunately, it seemed like only one of these requirements were going to be fulfilled, and not the one he hoped for...

The chariot ride to Beacon was full of attempts to start a conversation-being who they were, they didn't have to worry about being able to hear each other over the sound of the horses' hooves-but every time it came down to Derek to fill in the silence, the worry that was gnawing at his chest made him feel like he was going to be sick and he _really_ didn't need Peter to start mocking him, so he kept his mouth shut for so long that everyone else simply gave up.

Hearing the castle Cryer announce their presence long after they were able to see the milling crowd that were either going to greet them or lynch them was the only thing that grabbed Derek's attention, and that was because the man had alerted him to the fact that he could now see Stiles pushing his way to the front of the gathering, a dark haired boy beside him that could only be the King, going off the description that Stiles had given them when he had visited their Den.

* _-I don't care if this high and mighty Lycan decides you're his Goddess-blessed **Mate** ,*_ The boy who **must** be King Scott is saying, a frown sitting oddly on a face that seems to be more used to smiling, * _If he treats you like a chew toy, I **will** behead him, treaty or no._ *

* _This new found protectiveness is really making you attractive to me,_ * Stiles responds blithely, and they're now close enough for Derek to see him fluttering his lashes like a maiden at the King, the other boy's expression saying this is something that Stiles does **a lot** , and that he's grown accustomed to what could only be his friend's eccentricities. * _Are you sure that you aren't just jealous that he's getting something you want? You **did** seem pretty upset when I first had this idea, your Grace._ *

The Cryer screeching in his ear cuts off the King's answer and he can see the duo playfully ribbing each other in a way that Derek hasn't felt comfortable doing with his sisters in... well, in a long time. It would be disheartening to realize that he has stopped something that used to be such an integral part of his life, something as natural to him as breathing, but he's too busy paying attention to the thought that is bounding around his skull faster than a cornered rabbit's heart:

_**This Pairing was Stiles' idea?** _

Derek isn't sure to do with this bit of information-whether the King is even happy letting someone he _obviously_ cares for be part of a Pairing that is sounding more and more like the Kingdom affair that Derek's starting to wish it wasn't-but he's being presented to the King before he can fully gather his thoughts and he just hopes that his confusion doesn't show on his face.

Well, whatever _does_ show makes the King frown at him even as Stiles grins, which is doing _nothing_ to help the feeling that Derek is standing on the edge of a cliff with one of his sisters behind him, promising not to shove him off...

"May the Goddess' Blessings be upon you, Alpha Talia and Alpha Heir Derek," Stiles says after the silence has stretched on for longer than customary, a stress on the words that makes the King start guiltily and Derek's mother smile for a split second, which makes Stiles grin return when he sees that they weren't offended by the momentary lapse. "I apologize for the silence; usually our King is much more polite than this, but your grace and beauty must have struck him speechless, something that I believed only our dear Queen Allison was capable of doing until now! Surely, this is a day for the Chroniclers' scrolls!"

"Keep up the sly remarks and I'll make also make it the day of your imprisonment, _Emissary Stiles_ ," the King returns without any heat, a smile that appears almost _painful_ sitting on his face when he turns back to address them. "My Emissary seems to believe that he is humorous and that his tongue will not get him into trouble because we were raised together; it is a daily battle to prove him wrong, not that the other Lords and Ladies of my Court believe that I try all that hard."

"It's alright to admit that I am your favorite, your Grace." Stiles' prompt response comes with a wink in Derek and Talia's direction, causing the knot in Derek's stomach to slowly unclench and allow him to give the man a small smile of his own.

The King sighs in a way that Derek is very familiar with, being a brother with sisters who believe it is their duty to drive him insane himself; he knows everything the King is saying with that simple exhalation and the quick glance he shares with Derek before he remembers himself, schooling his face into the frown that he greeted them with, cheeks a light pink in his embarrassment.

It doesn't bother Derek all that much this time, because he knows that he would be acting almost the same way if he were introduced to either of his sister's Pair, if not even more unwelcoming. The way that Stiles' eyes dart between the two of them, however, makes him resolve to try to be civil with the King while he is here; it is obvious to anyone with a brain that the pair of them are good friends, if not more...

Is that the reason that King Scott seems so against Derek, before he even had time to present himself? Did Stiles' playful quip hold more truth in it than even _he_ was aware of? Did the King have deeper feeling for his Emissary than just friendship? Was Derek stepping into something that was more than just a mere Pairing to a stranger, something much more dangerous?

Derek breathed in deeply, trying to get some sense of where he is standing in the middle of all this, but all that comes through are the scents of tension, discouragement, and defensiveness that are part and parcel of meetings like this, nothing that will help him either win or appease the people standing in front of him.

"Dealing with misbehaving children _is_ a daily struggle, King Scott, be grateful that you only have only one that you have to keep an eye on and not a whole Pack," Talia states, drawing Derek's attention as she grins at Stiles' exclamation that he is not a child before continuing with, "Then again, you are a King, your Grace, and you may view your people as your Pack, so perhaps you should just be grateful that only this one is giving you trouble."

* _If only..._ *

Both boys mutter it, perhaps forgetting that the Lycans in front of them can hear them, but neither one decides to comment; Talia, because she has spotted something that makes her give her excuses to the King and depart, and Derek is too busy noticing Gerard Argent on the outskirts of this gathering with more than a score of men surrounding him to comment on his mother's departure, or that the King leaves a few moments later with a halfhearted farewell.

It is Stiles' voice that draws him back to the here and now, letting him know that the Emissary has noticed who exactly has captured his attention. “Lord Gerard is one of the few reasons why I actually enjoy leaving Beacon for so long, despite how much I love my home and my people; there are many days that I wonder how the Queen and her father came to be so peaceful and not so... well, not so much like Gerard or his late daughter.”

The mere mention of Kate, even in the briefest of passing comments, makes all the calm that Derek managed to gather in the short hour he spent in Stiles' company disappear with a puff of breath and his voice is more cautious than it should be as he questions, “You've... met the late Lady Argent?”

“Yes, and that visit was more than enough to know her true nature.” The way that Stiles glances his way makes something in Derek swoop in a rather abrupt drop that has him swallowing hard to make sure that the words that are threatening to spill forth stay where they are and not poison the air between them. “She visited Beacon on the Queen's seventeenth Name Day, bringing gifts of wine and weaponry, boasting of the animals that she had hunted in the North. It sounded like a normal Hunt would go, but... I always thought that there was more to it than what she spoke of, and Lord Christopher didn't seem so pleased with her bragging, either...”

His voice has cut off rather abruptly at that and Derek can see Stiles' distress at revealing what was no doubt something that he should not as clearly as he would his own upset, and it unnerves him so much that he can read the boy so easily already that Derek just blurts out, “You're not very fond of Hunts, are you?”

This grin is once more that pale imitation of Stiles' _real_ smile and Derek curses himself for not picking a better subject. “I know the meat is essential to survival and that our hunters never take more from the forest than what we need, it was just that the late Lady Argent seemed to forget that fact the more wine she sipped and it did not bother as many as I had hoped it would, despite how clearly uncomfortable her kin were... I had never been fond of killing, anyway; I've had enough death in my life, I have no desire to chase after more.”

Stiles' eyes widen after that last statement and he ducks his head as he mutters an apology, clearly embarrassed at what he admitted to Derek, who is trying to get over his own shock that Stiles opened up so much in their few minutes together; Lady Stilinski was beloved by all in the Court, but by none more than her own Pair and son, with her death driving Lord Stilinski into the bottle and her son to become nothing more than a wisp of his former self.

(There had been rumors of a small, pale boy dragging his father from both alehouses and the occasional whorehouse, and while there are those who could see the former while doubting the latter, Derek is of the mindset that the Stilinski men were-and are-more private in their grief.)

(Again, he wasn't sure how or why he thought this, but something told him that this was the absolute _truth_.)

Nonetheless, Stiles _did_ share something with Derek, meaning to or not and he desperately wants to give something of himself back; there are many things that he could say, so much that he could share with the boy that looks like he isn't going to be meeting his eye any time soon, but he is still so thrown by Stiles' openness all that comes out of his mouth is, “I don't plan on dying any time soon.”

The side of Stiles' mouth quirks as he raises his head, yet still keeps his gaze averted from Derek's own, causing something within the older male to twitch and the urge to cup that face in his hands rise until he is clenching his hands into fists at his side when Stiles blows out a exaggerated breath. “Well, that is good to know; besides, I hear that your lot is rather hard to kill, anyway.”

“You picked the perfect Pair, then.”

It's Derek's turn to find something more interesting in the cobblestones under his feet, trying not to hear too much-or too little-in the sudden inhalation that his words have caused; he appears to be cursed with either not saying the right thing, or saying too much when it comes to Emissary Stilinski, and he wishes that he knew how to _fix this_ before he dooms both himself and his family with his stupidity.

It seems that the Goddess in Her Eternal Glory has heard his silent wish, because it is at that moment that he hears his mother let loose with one of her rare, _real_ laughs, making him immediately whip his head around to see what it was that caused her to make it...

He sees her standing by a man that can only be Stiles' father, his own put upon expression at odds with her cheerful one, and Derek has no time to wonder at why they have such conflicting reactions to whatever it was that was said before _Stiles_ starts laughing beside him, drawing his attention back to the Emissary with no less of an incredulous expression than when he started.

“Forgive me,” Stiles pants, his cheeks dusted with redness that either has to do with embarrassment at laughing so openly, or the force at which his laughter overtook him. “I mean no offense, but you acted like you heard the War Bells rather than your mother's laughter and I couldn't get the image of a hound who has heard his master's call out of my head.”

“And what part of that was not suppose to offend?” Derek makes sure that his own smile is visible, having had enough people-his family included-tell him that stilling his face even in jest gave the impression of a man about to commit murder. “The fact that you liken me to a hound doesn't bode well for me, does it?”

The hue on Stiles' face darkens and he quickly changes the subject by chattering about the various subjects that Derek will be meeting at this gathering. It makes the tension between them from before, that had started to fade with the suddenness of Talia's laughter, dissipate into something more warm and comfortable... something that distracts Derek so much that he almost misses his mother calling his name.

* _Derek._ *

Stalling Stiles' story of the Lady Erica-someone that Derek swears neither Cora or Laura will **ever** meet-with a hand on his arm, Derek can feel himself tensing at the tone in his mother's voice; that tone has **never** been a good thing for him and the last time she used it had been sworn to secrecy by the **entire** Hale Pack, on pain of severe dismemberment.

* _Come and meet your Pair's father, Derek, there will be plenty of time to woo Stiles later._ *

“ **Mother**!” His exclamation causes several people near him to side-eye him strangely, but his attention is focused on the dread he feels at hearing a trio of laughter from different corners of this assembly, which means the very people that he could have gone without hearing his mother say something like that **heard her** and are going to make his life a living hell.

This moment, though, he's more concerned with the way that Stiles is tugging on his tunic, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a clear expression of worry.

A worry that Derek supposes is not entirely unfounded, but more so for him than for Stiles' sake...

“My mother is just asking me to speak with your father,” At the disbelieving rise of Stiles' brows and the reminder of how he reacted to Talia's 'request', Derek amends, “She was just a little more... colorful than what I was expecting and I know that my family is going to enjoy tormenting me because of it.”

“Right, and now you're going to go. Speak to my father, that is. That's... that's a thing. A thing that's going to happen. That's going to happen right now,” Stiles' worry seems to have disappeared in the face of Derek going to talk to the man that raised him; now, he just looked downright _terrified_ , which wasn't really doing anything for Derek's own nerves.

“I don't have to speak-” is all Derek manages to get out before Stiles' wildly waving hands nearly collide with his face, making him suppress a flinch and for the redness on Stiles' face from earlier to make a reappearance.

“ _No_! No, I mean, you should. You _should_ speak with him and I really need to find out what's taking them so damn long with the ale because this is _not_ going to end well... Not that you have anything to do with that! It's just that he's been more protective of me since-” Stiles shakes his head in a sharp negative that Derek knows from experience doesn't really make the memories go away. “Never mind that, because we should be more concerned about him testing how tough your skin _really_ is and making vague threats about how much wolfsbane we have! I'm going to have to convince your mother not to kill _us_ after the two of you are done 'talking'. _**Goddess**_ , this is going to be-”

“Stiles.”

It must be the calm note in the face of the younger boy's panic, the fact that Derek seems to be perfectly fine despite the amount of information just thrown at him, because Stiles cuts off in the middle of his rant to stare at Derek like the older man might have a way out of whatever horrible scenario his mind has drawn up.

It makes that feeling, the one that says he should wrap Stiles up in his arms and promise him that nothing he loves will ever come to harm, well up again and Derek has to bite his tongue to keep from making promises he can't keep, from giving his soul away to a boy he has barely known for a day...

_**I don't think I'm going to survive this Pairing, not without giving something of myself that I can't replace.** _

Mentally shaking his head, Derek manages to muster up a smile for the boy in front of him, the expression of worry changing from whatever kind of 'talk' his father might have in store to frighten/intimidate, to concern that there might be something wrong with Derek himself.

The reminder of how well he can read Stiles, despite their short time together, does not go unnoticed; however, he has more important things on his mind...

“Hard to kill, remember?”

The small, upward tick of Stiles' lips that seems like the man had no control over strengthens Derek's spine as he turns on his heel and makes his way over to Stiles' father, a man that-going by the glower on his face-is less pleased to speak to him than Stiles had been just hearing about the possibility.

* _Ah, Hellfire..._ * The statement is coupled with a dark look to Derek's mother, something that Talia just laughs at and makes Lord Johnathan's face get that much grimmer.

It is a sentiment that Derek can readily agree to, but he's made his choice and he knows that there is at least someone on the other end that will be his friend through it all, despite what others may think.

It is just his luck that he's suddenly realized he wants so much more.

 

\--------------------

\----------------

\----------

 

Saying that he had been thrown by Derek's joke before he just turned and walked over to the scariest person in their Kingdom-Sorry, Scott!-would be a bit of an understatement and he would probably be still gaping after him had Derek not stilled on the way to Stiles' father with his head bobbing between where Johnathan stands to Talia a few feet away.

It makes Stiles want to run up to Derek and pull him back to where Stiles is standing, no matter the whispers it may cause, or the frown he will undoubtedly get from his father for it; as a matter of fact, he is readying himself to ignore the grin that has overtaken Alpha Talia's face and put his plan into motion when a cry from the Queen grabs his attention, his stomach twisting when he realizes that she is currently in an argument with Alpha Heir Laura and it is not sounding like this is some mere political debate between the two...

Still, there is a few minutes deliberation before Alpha Talia nods at his father and brushes past Derek with a pat on the shoulder, taking care of Stiles' internal debate and letting him join their Majesties to make sure that the argument that is steadily brewing doesn't dissolve into outright violence.

(It doesn't; it just seemed that the Queen wasn't sure if she should take offense to the rather open way that Alpha Heir Laura had complimented King Scott's... physique and the way that their King did not seem as put off by the Lady's bluntness as she was.)

(Needless to say, the King's soft nature and his inability to 'take offense at what he thought was a harmless compliment' was the only thing that kept him from sleeping in the servant's chambers.)

(Alpha Heir Laura had found the whole thing _vastly_ amusing.)

That had been nearly two hours ago; they had moved the gathering inside Beacon Castle since then, and every time that Stiles has checked for him, Derek has been in some corner with Lord Johnathan, both men in deep conversation.

It had started to bother him after the first hour had ended; _what_ , exactly, more could his father have to tell Derek? True, Johnathan had a bit of a protective streak for his-and those he believed to be his-family, but wasn't this a bit _much_? Stiles was only a few months away from his eighteenth Name Day, from being considered an adult by all in the Kingdom, and his father was still giving anyone who even _looks_ at Stiles-excluding their Majesties, for more familiar reasons than political ones-a dressing down that would give their old training teacher a run for his money!

“You're acting like you're about to take flight across the Hall and attack something,” Scott states, his Queen at his elbow and appearing far too calm about what is happening not ten feet from where they stand. “Are you _that_ worried about the Lycan Heir that you previously claimed 'was put off by you'?”

“He's _still_ talking to my father, Scott.” Stiles ignores the reminder of the rant he had made after returning from the Lycan Den, a rant that had lasted for most of the night and the following day, only stalled by the missive that said Talia was more than willing to continue with the Pairing.

(He is _not_ at all bothered by the way that Derek is _still_ uncomfortable in his presence, a full fortnight later, a reminder of his inability to _think_ when it matters most.)

“I _know_ , Stiles.” Scott's voice sounds no less understanding than it did the first time he asked Stiles what was wrong, only last time he had compared Stiles to 'a feral Other pacing in a cage'.

“Do you? Do you really understand what is happening right now, half a Hall away from us? Alpha Heir Derek Hale is talking to my father, the man that once _threatened to beat a visiting Lord_ with the flat of his sword because the man managed to land a glancing blow on me while we were _training_! Do you even remember how carefully we had to tread after that to get the Daehlers to even _consider_ trade with us?!? Now the Lycan that going to be _my future Pair_ and a large part of this treaty that's integral to our future is speaking to that same man... _**Alone**_!!” Stiles was well aware of what was going on and was upset that his best friend wasn't showing a **little** more concern over the fact that the Lycan Heir-Stiles' future Pair!-was about to get **murdered in front of them**!

“I highly doubt that your father is going hurt Lord Hale when he hasn't done anything wrong, Stiles; besides, I would hardly call being in the same Hall as the rest of the Court 'alone'.” Allison is trying not to laugh at him, he can tell, and he would bring up her own paranoia where it came to their guests if he wasn't too busy trying not to think of all the ways that a former General of the King's Guard could kill someone before anyone could lift a hand to save them.

Although, she _did_ have a point about there being a room full of witnesses if his father decided the best way to make sure that Stiles doesn't go through with this Pairing was to get rid of the other half of the equation... not that it stopped him when he laid into the young Lord Matthew after their training mishap...

“I must say, I find this protectiveness toward my nephew heartwarming, especially since you're trying to protect him from your own kin.”

Stiles jumps, he can't help it, Derek's uncle has managed to sneak up on all of them without him noticing and it was a little disturbing hearing that slimy voice right next to his ear; it seems that their Majesties are of the same mind as him, with Scott shifting so that he is standing between Allison and Peter, while the Queen allows the movement to cover the fact that she has reached for a dagger almost as soon as the new voice entered their conversation.

Only one of nearly a dozen that Stiles knows she has strategically hidden at various points upon her person, knowledgeable enough to make even the smallest of them feel like a broadsword in the gut.

Peter, to Stiles' annoyance, seems amused by their reactions and grins in a way that makes Stiles want to bathe as soon as all of this unpleasantness is over. “Why do I get the feeling that none of you are pleased to see me? We're going to be family soon, after all...”

The last part is directed at Stiles and the leer that accompanies it makes that want for a bath rise until Stiles is sure he can feel his skin itching in discomfort. He tries not to let Peter see as he rubs at his arms, a polite smile affixed to his face as he replies with, “I can hardly contain my glee.”

Peter's lips curl into a smug smirk and Stiles has to fight an overwhelming urge to punch the damn man in the nose for his obvious enjoyment at making them so uncomfortable-something that has more to do with the man himself than what he is-and is just about to follow through when Scott cuts in with a timely, “Was there a reason you wanted to speak to us, Lord Hale?”

“Oh, but I'm not a Lord, am I?” There is a glint in Peter's eyes now that makes Stiles step closer to his King and brother, something that makes Scott draw Allison closer to him and her grip tighten on her blade; their actions draws Erica, Boyd, and Issac's attention from where they were conversing a few feet away, the trio starts toward them as Peter leans down with a sneer he doesn't even bother trying to hide. “I'm just the wild animal half your Court would be happy watching choke on his own blood, while this brat puts a collar on his kin.”

Scott's mouth drops open before his face is curling into frustration right as Stiles feels their guards at his back, leather creaking as they shift to block the gathering from seeing the mounting confrontation. “That's not-!”

“Isn't it?” Peter's eyes turn to Stiles to pin him where he stands, feeling like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest when the Lycan leans even closer, so that they're almost nose-to-nose and Stiles can hear the sharp slide of more than one weapon leaving its sheath. “Are you going to tell me that this little match is a product of _love_? That after only spending an hour in my nephew's company, one that he answered mostly in grunts, he managed to fill you with such an overwhelming sense of affection that you ignored the way that more than half of your beloved 'subjects' believe us nothing more than a trophy to hunt down for their walls and decided to claim him?”

Stiles meets that gaze, wondering what in the Deamon's Pit both Derek and Allison did in a past life to end up with such _unbalanced_ relatives!

Yes, Lord Christopher _had_ seemed a little overprotective when it had come to Scott and Allison's relationship in the beginning, but hearing what had happened to her mother had shed some light on the situation and Scott never giving the man even the _slightest_ reason to worry about his intentions had eased the Lord's mind after that; then Stiles had met Lady Katherine and the Lord Gerard, and he would wonder if the pair had been wards of the Argent family instead of blood kin if not for several people and writings saying otherwise.

Derek's family had all seemed so normal as well; Talia, Laura, and Cora had seemed reasonably nice when he had met them, knowledge of having an almost-brother giving him an insight to the sisters' behavior with Derek, and the few other Lycans he had seen had seemed _polite_ , at least... Was there some sort of system that said a nice family had to have a bit of craziness to balance it out? Should Stiles be worried for any future children _he_ might have, considering how beloved his own family was?

A glace to his Liege Lord and Lady tell him that question will have to be answered later-and that he has drifted in his own thoughts for too long, if the concerned glances they are sharing is anything to go by-so he takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the rather _intense_ way that Peter is staring at him.

“No, I won't tell you that.”

Peter grins when he pulls back to the way he was standing before, as if that whole thing was completely normal and he wasn't getting uncomfortably familiar with Stiles' personal space, but Stiles is more focused on that smile he has; the smile that says that Peter was _expecting_ Stiles' answer, the smile that spreads across his face almost like he won something, but that same grin slips when Stiles raises his hand right as the older man opens his mouth.

After all, Stiles wasn't done with his answer just yet...

“I won't tell you why I asked to be Paired to your nephew, whether this was a matter of territory and treaty or my own base urges, and I sure as Hellfire will _not_ tell you whether or not I will be 'collaring' Derek as well because it is _none of your Deamon damned business!!!_ ” Now it is **Stiles** who is moving forward so that he's in Peter's space, and it surprises the man so much that he involuntarily takes a step back, his eyes widening when he realizes what he's done, what it _means_.

“You have _no right_ to demand _anything_ from me, considering you are neither my family, my Pair, my King, _or_ my Alpha, if it comes to that! When I am Paired to Derek-and I _will_ be Paired to him-the _only_ people that can demand answers of me are Derek himself, my father, their Majesties, or Talia, because-as memory serves- _she_ is the Alpha, _not you_."

Stiles is breathing heavily, his heart surprisingly calm as he keeps his gaze on Peter as the older male seems to process what was just shouted at him, nothing in his stance giving anything away when he suddenly bends into a bow without so much as a by-your-leave.

There are only a few moments of stunned silence, of the lot of them giving each other looks that can only be described as _'What in the Hellfire just happened?'_ , before Peter is lifting himself and brushing an imaginary bit of dust off his shoulders, acting as if the whole thing was completely normal instead of the utter insanity that was starting to give Stiles emotional whiplash.

“You certainly are more than what most people give you credit for, Emissary Stilinski, that much is clear,” The shudder that travels Stiles' frame at the way Peter says his title can't be hidden this time and the older male's expression on seeing his reaction doesn't help the feeling that he will have to be _very_ careful around the Lycan in the future. “As a matter of fact, I would be inclined to let this whole thing play out for my amusement if not for the way that your heart skipped when you said 'I _will_ be Paired'... Having second thoughts already?”

“Well, a certain member of the family leaves a bit to be desired...” Stiles' comment slips past his lips without any say from his brain-making _someone_ bite back a snort behind him-and he knows that he really shouldn't be aggravating the Lycan that would have no qualms with tearing him to pieces, but it's never been said that Stiles Stilinski really thought things through.

Peter proves this point when his lips curl into a snarl and he's stepping forward, to do what Stiles thankfully doesn't find out, because Boyd is meeting Peter halfway with a hand to his chest and a mild, “I think you should see to the other members of your family, Lord Hale, if you are that concerned with their wellbeing.”

For a heartbeat or two, Stiles is sure that Peter will push past the Captain, that this whole thing will turn into a disaster before it even has a chance to start, but then Peter once again proves that he has the mental capacity of a rabid raccoon when he turns on his heel without so much as a nod to their Majesties and makes his way across the room to where Cora is starting to realize that something might be wrong.

“Does anyone want to tell me what in the Hellfire just happened?” Lord Boyd's voice is still a mild disinterest, but he's gone from making sure that Peter is going to stay on his side of the Hall to staring at Stiles like slaying him where he stands might solve all of the Captain's problems.

“I think Stiles made a new friend,” Lady Erica's voice is a delighted chirp in contrast to her Paired's dour tone and Stiles hides a smile at the way Boyd rolls his eyes at her, yet cannot keep his own small smile from showing. “I think he likes you, Emissary, maybe he'll even make his own attempt at wooing you?”

Stiles isn't the only one that makes a horrified face at that, but thankfully he's kept from voicing his thoughts when Scott decides to chime in with a rather frantic, “He can't woo Stiles! The Lord is at _least_ thirty years older than him! _And_ he's a _creep_! Besides, the match between Stiles and Alpha Heir Derek has already been agreed upon!”

_**“You picked the perfect Pair, then.”** _

Reminded of the man that he had been so worried about before, Stiles tunes out Scott being soothed by Allison and looks over to where he last saw Derek, a new fear gripping his stomach when he cannot immediately find him; this time, however, it is not because of his father, but because of the words that Peter had spoken...

What if they weren't just the ramblings of what Stiles now believes is a certified madman and how the Hale family _really_ felt about this whole affair? It would not be the first time that a family had joined with Beacon thinking the worst, only to be proven wrong down the line, but Stiles _really_ wants the Hale family- ** _wants_ Derek, _at least_** , his mind unhelpfully supplies-to understand that this is not some ploy to rid the world of them and _why can't Stiles find either Derek or his father?!?_

“-iles? _Stiles_!”

He starts upon hearing his name, the tone saying that someone had been calling him for a while, but he had been too caught up in his mounting worry to realize it. Looking up, he sees that the Captains have disappeared somewhere and Lord Lahey is standing a respectable distance away from their Majesties, while still managing to give Stiles the same troubled squint they are.

“I'm fine,” He says before they even ask, because he knows they're _going_ to ask, and if he hears that question _one more time_... “Did you see where my father and Alpha Heir Derek went?”

Scott heaves out a breath that says he's done dealing with Stiles for the rest of the day as Allison giggles and states, “I'm pretty sure that he was escorted to his room, Stiles, considering how late the hour has become.”

Blinking, Stiles looks around the Hall and sees that she is correct; most of the people that have gathered to greet the Lycans are nowhere to be seen, with a few stragglers conversing lowly in corners, Peter and Alpha Talia among them... Neither one looks happy, and it seems that Alpha Talia has either heard what Peter said or had someone tell her, if the looks she keeps sending Stiles' way are any indication.

“Should I see that Alpha Talia and Lord Hale find their rooms as well?” Lord Lahey's grimace says he would rather do anything else than what he just suggested, but the grateful smile Scott gives him makes Issac's spine straighten as he nods and makes his way over to the still arguing siblings.

“We should _all_ get some rest, I think, if the following days are going to be anything like this one,” Scott sighs and Stiles feels an overwhelming wave of guilt when he sees the exhaustion that his King has hidden all this time sneak through.

“I'm sorry.”

Scott stares at him, opening his mouth to no doubt question what Stiles is sorry for, before he closes it with a shake of his head. “Don't, Stiles. It's not your fault and the Lycans are actually a fair group of people, despite what the Court has claimed.”

“Well, there is at least _one_ exception to that, my King,” Allison quips, her eyes tracking Peter as Lord Lahey escorts him out of the Hall, her brow furrowed when the werewolf notices her gaze and gives her a wink. “I'm inclined to watch out for that one as much as I find myself warming up to his kin.”

Stiles really doesn't have the energy to cheer at the strides that they made today, Allison's comment making him hope for a future where everything between Beacon and the Hale Pack will be less stressful than it had been, because his body has been alerted to the late hour and he finds himself yawning as he says goodnight to their Majesties.

Their own well wishes are fond as they also head to bed, heads bowed toward each other and a giggle or two following them out of the Hall. It is a sweet picture, one that he has seen for many nights following council meetings and court gatherings, but now the sight makes a heavy weight settle in his chest.

He's going to be Paired soon, and there had been a time that the thought of it was a sweet, far off dream, nothing like the reality that he is going to be facing in a week's time; it makes him lonely, watching how very much in love his friends are, and knowing that there will be nothing like that in his own life.

Sighing heavily, Stiles enters his own chambers and begins to strip off his heavy overcoat and other 'official' Emissary gear, his mind a whirling jumble of thoughts and wishes.

Perhaps Derek _would_ grow to love him; he had seen it happen before, many Pairing were brought about because of treaties and merging of Lords Houses, the Pairs not even meeting before their Coupling Ceremony... Granted, Scott was trying to abolish that practice, but he's seen Pairs that came from that happy and in love!

_**You picked the perfect Pair, then.** _

_Why_ can he not get those words, and the way that Derek had looked when he said them-soft and _fond_ -to stop repeating over and over in his mind? _Why_ did Derek have to even say them in the first place?! Did he _want_ to drive Stiles _**crazy**_?!?

He's startled out of his thoughts by a tentative tapping at his door, almost as if the person standing on the other side didn't even want him hearing the knock. It makes him snort before heading across his chambers, too tired to even throw on a shirt to maintain his decency.

“Scott, if you managed to get in the hound's house with Allison _already_ , I swear to the Goddess-” Stiles is pretty sure that he can be forgiven for cutting off what he was about to say, his jaw dropping somewhere around his knees, considering the very man that had been troubling his thoughts is standing outside of his door, an expression of worry and determination covering his face.

“Emissary... Can we speak?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! My computer dying and taking all my writing with it, getting a new job, and suffering with a severe case of writer's block made it a little difficult to get this done sooner!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, [memprime](http://memprime.tumblr.com), without whom this story would be one big, enthusiastic, italicized keyboard smash.


	5. The Talk

Derek was aware of the lateness of the hour when he had knocked on Stiles' door and he had been half expecting his knock to go unanswered, but he was also determined to speak to Stiles before any more time had passed and he could not explain himself without seeming like he had deliberately misled the Emissary.

This wouldn't be something that he would have normally thought after only spending what amounted to half a day with Stiles, despite the fact that both of them shared something that Derek was sure neither one would have done under normal circumstances, but the talk with Lord Stilinski had shed some light on things that Derek was unaware of and the need to fix this had him pacing for the better part of an hour before he couldn't stand the thought of Stiles being angry with him over something he could have avoided, which has led him to where he now stood.

It wasn't something that was looked upon favorably, him being here and without a chaperone; it was considered indecent and outright scandalous by most, another thing that Kate had said he should try to avoid after they had been courting for a few weeks, after the day that she had finally explained why she stopped kissing him.

She still had been kind then, explaining that people would look down on him, would look down on _her_ , if Derek couldn't control himself. Had said that, while it was sweet that he was so passionate, she couldn't have the reputation of being _easy_ tacked to _either_ of them. Had laughed when he had said that he _loved_ her and asked why it was a crime that he was willing to show it...

It was the same laugh she used when she had cut off the betrothal entirely, leading him to where he is now.

Drawing his dressing gown tighter around himself and shifting on the cold stone on his bare feet, Derek steels his nerves and tells himself that it was better that he came here alone, that Laura or Cora-there was _no way_ that he would bring either Peter or (Goddess forbid) _his mother_ with him; he wanted to _talk_ to Stiles, not scar him for life-would make fun of him the entire time they were here and there were things that Derek wanted to discuss with Stiles that he really didn't want to mention within hearing distance of _any_ member of his family.

So he focuses on the heartbeat behind the door going from a low, steady beat to the aware hum that is approaching, and takes a deep breath as he prepares the speech he hopes will convince Stiles not to cancel this whole thing... or at least consider an alternative if he cannot stand to be Paired to Derek afterward.

“Scott, if you've managed to get into the hound's house with Allison _already_ , I swear to the Goddess-”

Stiles' voice cuts off as soon as the door is opened, causing Derek to immediately ask if they can speak as he tries to ignore the confirmation that his suspicion about the relationship between King Scott and his Emissary is closer than he originally thought, perhaps even so with the Queen, as well.

Honeyed eyes blink at him a few times before their owner is crossing his arms as he nods, drawing Derek's attention to the fact that Stiles apparently was getting ready for bed before Derek invaded his privacy, as his chest is bare and the flies to his trousers are slightly loosened...

...drawing the eye to a jagged scar going down the Emissary's side, starting at his left pectoral and sliding down to where cloth still covers skin, bisecting a mole on its way.

A scar that looks like the person that gave it to him was either struggling to inflict it or desperately trying to get their blade back, making it slightly more thicker in places than others.

A scar that makes Derek, who has never been injured for longer than it took for him to lose a few drops of blood, want to reach out and _touch_.

“Derek?”

Giving himself the mental equivalent of a slap to the face, Derek launches into his speech as he makes sure that his eyes stay on Stiles' face and wander no lower. “I apologize for disturbing you at such a late hour, Emissary, but we didn't get much of a chance to speak at the Welcoming Feast and there are things that I believe we need to discuss that are... not something I wish to talk about in front of an audience.”

Stiles' brows rise at that and he lets out a small sigh before he rests against the door frame, hiding more of his scar from view, which allows more of Derek's mind to be focused on the task at hand. “I wasn't sleeping anyway, Derek, so there is no need to apologize. I agree that there are things we need to discuss, but something tells me that there is a certain subject you have in mind?”

Fighting off the thought that Stiles might sleep as he and his kin do on full moons-with nothing between them and the elements save what the Goddess crafted them with at birth-Derek swallows before speaking again. “While I was speaking with Lord Stilinski, I made sure to inform him that, even though this is far from a normal Pairing, I will not treat you... unkindly for it.”

“I'm sure that made my father happy.”

“He may have mentioned,”-with more than a little glee when he saw how uncomfortable Derek was getting the more he described how _very_ displeased he would be if his son was hurt in _any_ way-“that he has a special collection of wolfsbane daggers that he would have no qualms using if I ever decided break that promise.”

Stiles seems as startled as Derek by the laughter that slips past his lips, but he doesn't try to hide it and lets it drift down to chuckles after a few moments. The laughter also loosens some of the tension that had followed Derek to Stiles' chambers and settled in his ribcage as he had waited outside the door, so the next part is slightly easier to say, if not any less embarrassing.

“It was also while I was talking to Lord Stilinski about the traditions and customs of a Coupling Ceremony that I remembered you asking me before, if there was anything you should know before we were Paired,” Stiles' eyes go wide and his jaw works as if he is about to speak, so Derek is blurting out the next part before he can be interrupted or even condemned for what he is about to reveal, “and I believed that it was prudent that I should tell you that I'm n-not- I mean, I've been- I'm not... pure.”

The hallway stands silent for so long that Derek can hear Beacon's bell tower tolling in the distance, the far-off scruff of soldiers' feet as they go about their patrols and the soft crackle of the flames caught in the lamplight. None of this is comforting as it just highlights that Stiles is _still staring at him_ and _hasn't said anything_!

He is just about to excuse himself and make his escape when Stiles starts _laughing_ again, the moment just as jarring as it was before, with his head thrown far enough back to reveal the column of his throat and Derek is once more thrown by the want to caress that skin.

To _mark_.

Thankfully, the Emissary speaks before he can embarrass himself further as Stiles makes an effort to get his breathing under control. “Is that it? Goddess, Derek, I thought that you were going to announce that you had decided to _Pair with my father_ with the way you were going on!”

It's a fight not to grimace at the picture that puts into his mind, Stiles' own expression more than covering how Derek feels about even the _idea_ of that, so Derek decides to turn the conversation back on track by asking, “It doesn't bother you, then? That I'm not... untouched?”

“Honestly? I'm not surprised.”

It is said with a scoff and a shrug of Stiles' shoulder, as if Derek was simply telling him something he already knew; that now it was just the two of them, he didn't have to pretend that Derek deserved the soft respect he had shown, the respect that was apparently an act that he played for his own amusement...

Derek wishes he had never spoken now, that he had lived in the ignorance that he at least had Stiles' respect, if not his favor. This confirmation that the man that he was going to Paired with thought of him with the same disdain as the rest of the Court was like he had been stabbed with one of the daggers that Lord Stilinski had told him of earlier...

No, that would be less painful than this.

Stiles must sense something in the silence, because his face _drops_ and he is stammering, arms waving in a way that Derek is starting to realize is his way of trying to cover up embarrassment, “I'm n-not saying that I think that you're some- You _must_ have seen how the entire Court reacted to you, or _looked in a mirror_ at some point! Hellfire, I'm surprised that some of the other Lords and Ladies weren't throwing themselves at your feet, their earlier objections thrown to the wayside, what with you looking like you could tempt the Goddess Herself from the Heavens and into mortal sin.”

Derek blinks slowly, realizing that he will probably go through the rest of this Pairing being thrown by Stiles randomly turning what he thought he knew of the boy on its head.

It's not an unpleasant realization.

“I really didn't mean that- Goddess, I'm so sorry! I can't believe that I- That you had to hear- Daemon’s Pit, I owe Scott a fleet of racehorses now!”

“Why do you owe the King racehorses?” Derek's voice makes Stiles jump, halting his frantic pacing in the door frame and allowing Derek to catch glimpses of his room; clutters of papers, books in various states across an engraved table, and a large canopy bed situated in the far corner...

“He bet me that I couldn't keep from saying something stupid and offending you.” Stiles' voice brings his attention back to the boy in front of him as he does that little shrug again, the smile that Derek hates on his face, “I thankfully managed not to do so in front of your mother, _thank the Goddess_ , that woman scares me.”

“She's the Alpha; if she doesn't scare you, you're either simple or Daemon touched.” That gets him more of a real smile and Derek tries not to feel too pleased by that.

He's not very successful.

Stiles gives a short shake of his head and the humor falls from his face as quickly as it appeared, causing a small shiver of _something_ to travel down Derek spine as his brain decides to wonder what it would feel like to have that focus trained on him when he's a lot further in Stiles' room then the doorway.

In his bed, perhaps?

Stiles starts speaking before Derek's mind leads him down dangerous pathways, where the fact that he is going to Paired to this boy in a week's time is something that can be celebrated, instead of simply endured.

“Now that we've both agreed that your mother is as frightening as my father,” Derek lets himself chuckle at that, his own thoughts on the matter silent as Stiles waves a hand as if to say 'not important' as he continues, “I would like to point out that I was simply trying to say that your 'purity' isn't as important as others may try to make you believe. Trust me, being stuck week after week in a room with a bunch of Lords bragging about the 'wild horses' they've 'tamed' when you've never even attempted to 'try on a saddle' isn't as fun as they thought it was...”

“You... you've never even-?” Derek isn't really sure what it is that he's trying to say, struck with a stomach churning mixture of dread and anticipation; if Stiles is saying what Derek believes he might be, than Derek will be the first one to be blessed with the opportunity to caress that Goddess touched skin, but it also means that _Derek will be the first one to ever touch Stiles._

“Not with anyone else,” A grimace follows this answer, sending Derek's heart into flight as Stiles huffs, “You remember the point I made of how the Court acted as if your family was a drop of Goddess blessed water after a Daemon induced drought? Are you _seriously_ telling me that anyone who looked at you and your family the way they did would bother dallying with _this?_ ”

The last of his sentence is accompanied by his arms being thrown wide, showing off that _damn scar_ again and Derek...

Derek can only take so much.

He is aware that he is a very tactile person, so used to getting pats on the back, hands on the shoulder and fingers through his hair that it's hard to remember that there are people in this world that are unused to or unwelcoming of touches that are not agreed upon.

He will blame that, and the fact that Stiles makes him wonder and _want_ for the first time in a _long_ time, as the reason he reaches forward and drags a hand down Stiles' side that startles an absolutely delicious groan out of Stiles' mouth.

“ _I_ would not turn you away from _my_ bed, Emissary.”

The spicy scent of Stiles' arousal fills Derek's nose, deepening when Derek reaches up and starts tracing patterns along Stiles' other side, cataloging the differences between his scar and the unmarred skin. If he also memorizes the places where Stiles lets out soft little sighs when his fingertips skim them, well...

“Does it- Did you- Was it enjoyable?”

“Hm?” There is a smaller scar on the cusp of Stiles' shoulder, not as deep as the one on his side and obviously older, probably some mishap that happened when he was younger that had more time to heal.

“Being with someone else,” Stiles' voice has gone breathless and when Derek looks at him again, his eyes are wide and there is only a sliver of amber blinking back at Derek as Stiles licks his lips before continuing, “Did you enjoy it?”

“It can be pleasant.” Derek answers slowly, unsure how to explain that even though having sex with Kate _had_ felt good, there was always that moment afterward where she pulled away from his embraces or sniped at him for touching her too much. While she hadn't done so at first, Derek being 'too new and adorable' to get mad at, it had happened more and more often that when they were together that Derek just... stopped making her suffer through his blundering attempts.

Some of the glazed look has left Stiles' eyes and there was a frown on his lips as he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it _again_ , and then finally opened it to say whatever it was that was on his mind right as Derek was about to tell him to spit it out already.

“I hope that I can make it more than _pleasant._ ”

It's said all in a rush, like Stiles needs to get it out before he loses his nerve, and there is a grin at the end that tries to be cocky, but just reminds Derek of how very _young_ Stiles is and how little experience he really has. It makes him dig his fingers into the Emissary's hips, the swirling emotion of being both thrilled and terrified that he will be the first one that Stiles will ever be intimate with returning when a startled gasp leaves the human's lips.

Kate had mentioned, back when they had first started seeing each other in darkened corners and those stolen moments in between Court gatherings, that Derek was very lucky that he had found someone that had seen his innocence for the gift that she saw it was. That if he had decided to dally with-say, for example-one of the Lords of the Court, he would have been hurt _very_ badly; they would have taken one look at him and would've tried to control him, make him submit with hands that were far rougher than Kate's had ever been.

The way Stiles has been reacting to his touches makes it seem like that was just another thing that she had lied about, but there is still that niggling doubt in the back of Derek's mind that is saying that there has to be a catch somewhere, that an arrangement like this _can't_ end in happiness for him.

The world doesn't work like that, the Goddess isn't that kind...

Sure enough, just as Stiles is moving forward with a look of intent on his face, there is a sudden clamor down the hall that has Stiles jerking from Derek's hold even as a high, pained voice calls out, “I'm alright! It was just a tapestry!”

 _*Daemon damned, **Greenburg!** *_ Stiles' voice is an irritated hiss, too low for a human to hear, but Derek has a hard time keeping the smirk off his face when the curses get more colorful as Stiles visibly pulls himself together before looking Derek in the eye again.

His entire face is a ruddy color that Derek really shouldn't find endearing, but it's hard to do when Stiles' gaze keeps darting down to Derek's lips as his tongue darts over his own. It's hard to really do _anything_ watching that, so Derek is glad that Stiles is the one that decides to break the silence.

“I think it might be better if we say goodnight, Derek. It might not be a good idea if Greenburg happens to find you outside my doorway...”

“I could always come inside, Emissary.”

The words fall from Derek's lips before he can think them through, the heady scent of Stiles' arousal returning almost as soon as he finished speaking, confirming Derek's belief that there _is_ something that he can bring to this Pairing; he knows he's not clever, that there is nothing interesting he could debate with Stiles, nor is he what anyone could call a 'social asset', but he _can_ give Stiles this.

This look of want and desire, the thought of dragging Derek into his room to bed as easy to read on his face as the deep, shuddering breath he takes before he speaks again.

“I have _many_ thoughts on that, Alpha Heir, but I want to discuss them with you when the threat of death isn't as strong. Not really the mood I'd like for this particular subject.”

The way Stiles says this would give away his nervousness even if Derek couldn't smell it, but the reason _why_ is uncertain; is it because he wants Derek to agree and is worried he won't? Or is that he wants Derek to disagree and leave anyway?

It doesn't matter in the end; the option is taken out his hands when there is another thundering crash and Stiles is pushing him-he's startled enough that it doesn't take much to move him-from the doorway so he can slam it close, almost clipping off Derek's nose in the process.

Well, then.

Tuning out the disgruntled muttering behind him, Derek makes his way back to where he and his family are roomed, wondering if he had cleared up a few things between the Emissary and himself, or if he just made everything worse.

The thought plagues him almost as much as the worry that had made him seek out Stiles in the first place, so much that there are a few moments where he just stands in the hallway and contemplates leaving; go out into the woods surrounding the castle, shed his clothing and shift, running through the undergrowth as the Goddess intended for him...

It's only the knowledge that there are those that would harm his family hiding amid the rest of the Court that stop him from running away, stop him from passing this whole thing off to one of his siblings and living the rest of his life as the wolf that has been simmering under his skin the entire time he has been here.

Except when he was speaking with Stiles just now.

Derek makes it back to his room without incident, the doorway across the hall creaking and then there is Cora sleepily muttering, “Where have you been?”

“Nowhere.”

Cora scoffs at that, but asks no more questions as she heads back inside her room with a wide yawn, leaving Derek to close his own door between them and settle on the edge of his bed as he replays every word that was spoken between Stiles and himself.

Sleep takes a while to find him after that, his mind a jagged whirlwind of what if's and might be's.

 

\----------------

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Stiles is pretty sure he's going to die long before he even makes it to the Coupling Ceremony at the end of the week.

Hellfire, he wasn't sure that he would make it past another _day!_

Not only did he mouth off to a maniac that could very easily rip him to pieces before anyone could raise a hand in his defense, never mind the fact that Peter gives him a feeling that the man knows more than he's telling and that everything he does is with a thousand steps already planned out, Stiles decided that the best way to end the evening was to insinuate that his future Pair couldn't keep his trousers tied.

The look on Derek's face when he had made an utter ass of himself hadn't been hurt, or even angry; no, it had been this horrible slant of _resignation_ that had stabbed at Stiles' chest even as he realized his error and made him feel like the most worthless person in the entire Kingdom.

 _Including_ Greenburg!

Thankfully, Stiles was the master of chattering over his mistakes and Derek seemed to like that kind of thing, if the way that he had dragged his hands over Stiles' skin had been any indication.

A shiver travels down Stiles' spine when he remembers the heat of Derek's touch skimming over his sides like a butterfly's kiss, lingering on the scar that he usually kept covered up because of how ugly it sat upon his skin, but that Derek seemed to develop a _particular_ interest in.

Groaning, Stiles throws an arm over his eyes in a vain attempt to block out the memories as he wonders at the fact that Derek wanted to touch him _at all_ after what he said; honestly, Stiles wouldn't have been surprised if Derek punched him in the face instead of dragging his hands all over Stiles' chest, fingertips catching on his trousers but disregarding them completely...

 _That_ had been almost impossible to ignore and Stiles had known if he had let things continue, he would have come in his trousers like the untouched virgin he was, so he had tried to distract himself by doing what he did best; asking invasive questions until the problem went away.

Unfortunately, for his self-control and not really anything else, Derek had answered his question with this distracted air that said he was paying more attention to the skin under his hands than what was being asked; it would have been incredibly flattering if Stiles hadn't felt like he was a moment away from making a fool of himself...

The only thing that had really helped was when Stiles had asked if Derek had enjoyed himself when he had dallied with someone before.

It wasn't really something that Stiles needed an answer to; after all, how could it not be enjoyable, if someone like _Derek_ had been involved? What it really had been was a desperate diversion from the feeling of Derek's knuckles brushing against the lower part of his stomach, his pinky _just under_ the top of his trousers, every hair on his body standing at attention with the desire for Derek to just _do something_ already!

**_It can be pleasant._ **

That answer had cut through some of the fog in Stiles' brain and he had frowned at Derek, trying to understand what that had meant; did it mean that he had to suffer through bedding someone that was as untouched as Stiles before? Perhaps he had found the whole thing tedious and was trying to tell Stiles without outright _telling him_ that he needed to practice before Derek would even _think_ of sharing his bed.

Or it might have been that Derek was like the people that lived to the East, not enjoying the coupling that came from being Paired and had lived their whole lives without indulging in the whim, only acting with light touches.

Derek's hesitance may be from having tried pertaining in the Pleasures of the Goddess and found it not to his liking, making him come to Stiles to let him know that there wasn't going to be any of that in his future, that his comment about letting Stiles into his bed had meant no more than when Stiles had shared a resting place with Scott when they were younger...

Stiles had fought to find the words to ask what that comment had meant, but Derek was looking at his hands like he wasn't really seeing Stiles underneath them and it had caused something in Stiles' chest _twist_ , making him gape for a few seconds before it was much easier to find what it was he wanted to say.

**_I hope that I can make it more than_ pleasant.**

The way Derek's fingers had dug into his skin, as well the feeling that he was seeing _Stiles_ again, was worth the effort.

It also answered the question of what Derek was implying when he had said he would welcome Stiles in his bed and the shiver of awareness that followed that had Stiles moving forward before he can fully allow time for the thought, a low hum vibrating over his skin when he saw how the movement had made the Alpha Heir's eyes darken...

It would have been an interesting night after that if _Daemon damned **Greenburg**_ hadn't floundered down the hall and reminded Stiles that there were still those that would use the fact that Derek was at Stiles' door in the middle of the night as a way to claim that the Lycans were too animalistic to treaty with and start the war that Stiles was trying so hard to avoid.

Trying to get Derek back to his own room was hard- _ha!_ -enough, and it hadn't helped any when he offered to 'hide' in Stiles' room instead of leaving, throwing Stiles' remaining control off for a few minutes, long enough for Greenburg to stumble again.

That had given Stiles the jolt he needed to push Derek away and close the door in his face, possibly wiping away all the pleasantries between them, but it at least made Derek leave before Stiles did something stupid.

Like take the Lycan up on his offer, no doubt leaving them both to be caught and their positions twisted into something that the Lycan haters of the Court could use to their advantage in waging war...

Maybe Greenburg wasn't as Daemon damned as he originally thought.

Right now though, stuck in his room with a persistent erection and the memory of what it felt like to have someone's hands touch him with _intent_ and _want_ , Stiles is of the mind that the clumsy knight deserves the deepest and hottest of Hellfire that The Daemon can call forth.

After a few minutes passing, with realization dawning on him that trying to ignore his problem until it goes away isn't going to do anything, Stiles gives up the fight.

Pushing his flies the rest of the way open, Stiles slips his hand past his small clothes and wraps it around himself with a grunt, the way that Derek had looked at him fresh enough in his mind and enough talk from the Lords that it doesn't take much to imagine what it would be like to have Derek on his knees in front of Stiles.

How his hands would reach out and grip Stiles' hips in his broad palms as he places a light kiss against the tip of Stile's cock, tongue coming out to lick at the place that his lips just touched...

How his eyes would close as he slowly engulfed that same cock into the heat of his mouth, moaning at Stiles' taste...

How he would allow Stiles' fingers to tangle in his hair as Stiles slowly used his mouth to seek his own pleasures, Derek's moans muffled as his fingers flex on Stiles' skin...

The thought makes Stiles shudder as he collects the precum that is starting to gather and turns his strokes into teasing caresses, everything so much smoother now that he's biting his lip to keep the sounds in as he hears the stomp of the sentry's feet pass his door, but unable to stop; his imaginings turning to what it would be like to have the Lycan in his bed now:

Would Derek be rough, or gentle?

Would he tease him, or give into the delights to be shared?

Would he show Stiles how he liked to be touched, or would he be more focused on his partner's pleasure?

It was a heady thought, being able to finally know what it would be like to feel someone else touch on the most tender parts of himself, the ghostlike remembrance of Derek's fingers already growing cold and making him want more...

With another bitten off moan, Stiles reaches for the oil he has hidden amongst his clothes in the drawer next to his bed, a conversation he pretends he didn't have with his father-for _both_ of their sakes; Johnathan had looked just as uncomfortable having the conversation as Stiles had been hearing about it-alerting him to the knowledge that bedding a man was a bit different than bedding a woman and that Stiles 'should be prepared for the eventuality of both'.

This isn't the first time he's done this, but it is the first time that it has happened with a definite person in mind; before, when his thoughts had lingered on the male form instead of the female, there had been nebulous images of strong arms and broad shoulders, now he adds speckled river-stone eyes and a strong jaw that bends beautifully into a smile that makes Stiles _ache_.

Slicking his other hand up, Stiles' strokes get faster as he plays with his rim, imagining himself splayed out on his back like this with Derek over him, his broad palm pressed against Stiles' chest to keep him still as he opens him up slowly and those river-stone eyes intense on where his fingers were disappearing into Stiles, making him fall apart with the rough slide...

The mental image of that makes another low groan slip past Stiles' lips as he flips himself over, wondering at the thought of Derek manhandling him around, moving him where he wanted, muffling the sounds that follow that thought into a pillow as his hand leaves his cock to pull one of his cheeks to the side right when he pushes the first of his fingers past his rim and up to the second knuckle.

Derek's fingers are thicker than his own, would stretch him better, faster... His body is so broad and muscled, he could probably pin Stiles to the bed with little effort, leaning his chest against Stiles' back so he could use his other hand to keep Stiles from touching himself...

He presses his face further into his pillow as he adds another finger, moans and sighs slipping past his open mouth with no thought on his part, but enough sense left to not want to be interrupted because someone had thought he was being attacked.

That had been mortifying enough the _first_ time.

Especially since it had been _his father_ that had barged in with his sword drawn, looking for the danger with wild eyes that had turned even more wild when he saw _exactly_ what it was his son was doing.

(He couldn't look him the eye for a whole month afterward, mumbling that Stiles should really bolt his door if he was going to do... well, _that._ )

Shaking off all thoughts of his father and anything that has anything not to do with what's going on right now, Stiles slides a third finger alongside the other two, gasping a little at the burn as he starts rutting against the bed sheets.

He can feel himself getting lost in the thought of what Derek would say to him while he has Stiles pinned like this, how he would praise him for taking his fingers so well, being so good at getting ready for him...

Starting to feel that heat building in his abdomen that means his orgasm is moments away, Stiles reaches down and starts to stroke himself in a vicious counterpoint to the rhythm his other hand has, only getting a few swipes in before he's biting hard on his pillow and coming in hot stripes that hit his chest, making an utter mess of his bedding.

Flopping over to the side so that he doesn't land in the wet spot underneath him, Stiles stares at the stoned ceiling and wonders if Derek would take his leave as soon as their coupling was over, or if he would be the kind of lover that would coax Stiles into cleanliness and then submit to a minute bit of holding.

He hadn't been kidding when he had told Derek that the Lords boasting about _everything_ they did with a partner; there had been Lords that claimed that leaving as soon as the pleasure was over and done with was the better way, that it saved them from partners that demanded more than what was agreed upon, but Stiles was sure that he was more like the Lords that had spoken sweetly of the partners they had been with:

They talked of lazy morning spent speaking of things that had nothing to do with treaties or position, tender times of silence that spoke more clearly than words ever could, little jokes that only they knew of and giggling at the frustration of people not in the know...

His father had been one of these Lords and had always spoken fondly of the time spent with Stiles' mother, and Stiles was pretty sure that he was cut from the same cloth; the only question was if Derek was made from the same material as well.

Stiles hoped he was...

It's then that the cold bucket of reality comes crashing in with a jarring reminder that he's thinking of this Pairing as a _love match_ when it _isn't_ , that Derek and he had been the ones that had decided on a Coupling Ceremony when they _really_ weren't; in the end, it _doesn't matter_ whether Derek is an attentive lover or not, this is only a _political_ Pairing and-despite how he had acted-there was no tender feelings there.

Looks like his habit of jumping in with both feet is coming into play again; you'd think he learned after the last time...

Stiles is mentally berating himself when a nasty voice pipes up that was the only reason Derek had shown up at Stiles' door in the first place; to make sure that, despite having bedded others, Stiles would still accept him as a Pair.

While considered outdated and not as heavily enforced as it had been in his grandfather's and father's time, a Pairing _was_ normally commenced between two people of purity, claiming that it meant that 'their new beginning in each other signified their new beginning in life'.

(Which Stiles had always thought was ridiculous, but he knew not everyone thought the same way he did, and not everyone shared that viewpoint.)

Derek's hesitance over telling Stiles was probably more that he thought that Stiles would be angry that the Hale Pack thought so little of Beacon that they sent someone 'spoiled' to be Paired with their Emissary, not that he was worried that Stiles would be angry with _him._

After all, Stiles reasons while ignoring the part of his brain that brings up the way that Derek had looked when Stiles had stated he was unsurprised by his previous partners and the way that Derek had looked at him as he had ran his hands over his body, had Derek not said anything of Stiles' own desirability until _after_ he had basically said that Derek would be Paired with the untouched _and_ unwanted of Beacon's Court?

The buzz from the thought of Derek _actually_ wanting him is starting to fade as his brain starts picking over everything that the Lycan had said and pulling it apart with a dark intensity; why _else_ would someone like _Derek_ be Paired with someone like _him?_ An _Alpha Heir_ with an Emissary of the King, just for a _peace treaty?_

It was _pathetic!_

Jumping up from where he was laying, Stiles immediately begins to strip the bedding with a vengeance as the warm feeling from earlier compresses into something dark and heavy in his breastbone, not stopping until he is down to the mattress and everything in a pile in the corner.

Stomping over to the water closet, he picks up a water jug and a rag that had been left there from earlier in the day; wetting the rag, he scrubs at the evidence of his stupidity and naivete, cursing at the cold water and the man underneath it while trying to convince himself that at least Greenburg had stopped him from making a fool of himself in front of the Lycan by throwing himself at the man.

The thought isn't as comforting as he hoped...

By the time Stiles has finished washing himself, his chest is red and there are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, adding to the sudden wave of exhaustion that hits him like a wave cresting over the shore and all he wants to do is _sleep._

Sighing at the mess his bed is, Stiles decides against looking for spare bedding in the castle now and just piles some of his clothing onto the mattress as a makeshift nest, feeds the fire so that there is a crackling warmth radiating through the room, and burrows himself up in the middle of his bed as tries not to let his thoughts sink any lower.

They do that from time to time, sneak up on him when he has had a stressful few days and hasn't had a moment to breathe, and it leaves him gasping for air and feeling like there is a heavy weight on his chest much like it had when he was speaking with Healer Deaton; there is no Scott here to help him focus or draw his attention to lighter things, so Stiles tries his best to not think of anything to do with his future Pairing.

It just that, now that he's started thinking about it, he _can't stop;_ while he had been well aware that this Pairing was as far from the love match his parents had, and what he desperately wanted for himself, Stiles had hoped he would get a companion to talk with when all of this was over... He didn't think that he would end up with someone who thought that being Paired to him was some sort of burden he had to carry.

In a last, vain attempt to bring himself out of the spiral that he can feel himself plummeting into, Stiles hopes that this is all one big misunderstanding; much like when he had said Derek's past intimacies were no shock, perhaps he is just looking at all of this in a skewered perception because these past few days have been such a heavy toll on his nerves.

It would makes sense; being wound up so tight, and then wound up _even more_ after Derek's nighttime call, the rush that fills him after orgasm and allows his brain to filter through thoughts that may never have come to him otherwise must have latched onto the stress he was feeling, leaving him with all of these doubts and worries eating at the bit of happiness he found amidst the chaos.

Small comfort, but Stiles will take what he can get at this point, and it's all moot at the moment anyway; until he has that talk with Derek, and a _real_ talk this time, he has as much of an idea of the man as he did when the Lycan first knocked on his door.

Groaning as he rubs his hands over his face, Stiles twists himself even further into the clothes that litter his bed and closes his eyes determinedly, ordering his mind to forget about everything that has happened in the past few hours before he can examine it in the clear, bright light of day and not when he's still running on only a moment of sleep here and there.

There will be plenty of time tomorrow, and the day after that, and on for the rest of this week, right up until the moment he is standing at the alter on his Coupling Ceremony to figure out what this Pairing means between Derek and him; whether there is more there than what he originally planned for, or this is all just his lonely mind making kindness into something more.

He's always been the one to study things, investigate how they interact with the things around them and how to make them work in the people of Beacon's favor, he's sure that this will be just like that.

Granted, that this is of a more personal matter, and that there are only two people that he has to take into consideration instead of a whole Kingdom, but he's solved harder problems than this.

He'll figure it out, one way or another, in a way that leaves both Derek and him satisfied with the end result.

Sleep comes a little easier after he makes that decision, even though his rest still carries the worry of what tomorrow will bring.


	6. Complications

Stiles should have known that being at Court would bring complications to the treaty between the Lycans and Beacon, but he _had_ hoped he would at least been able to eat breakfast before all Hellfire broke loose!

Then again, with someone like Gerard Argent sitting in with the King that morning, breakfast is nothing more or less than a complete and utter _disaster_ , starting the instant they enter the dining hall.

“They”, of course, being Derek and his family, whose appearance make Stiles immediately look to his plate-more to avoid Derek’s gaze than anything else-and for Gerard to not-so-quietly mutter, “Looks like the dogs have been invited to the table.”

The entire family tenses, Derek and his sisters looking like they want nothing more to leap across the room and tear Gerard limb from limb, but are stopped only by their own word and their mother’s voice as she calmly states, “While I’m aware that relations between our families are not as friendly as we hope they will be in the future, I do believe we can keep the name-calling and slurs to a minimum. They are the weapons of children, not the Lords and Ladies I believe we are.”

“As well we should, Alpha, as you are my guests and deserve to be treated as such,” Scott’s emphasis on the words ‘guests’ and ‘deserve’ are not missed and the Hale family makes their way to the head of the table and their appointed seats beside the King in complete silence.

As soon as they are close enough, Stiles darts a quick glance at Derek, only to see him looking right back at him with eyes that carried dark shadows under them despite their healing, not bothering to look away when their gazes catch and causing a mixture of want and shame to curl in Stiles’ stomach.

He is the one that looks away, his greetings and good mornings muttered to his plate as he reminds himself that he still needs to speak with Derek before he can analyze the way those shadowed eyes had made him feel, along with the concern he had seen in them.

His attention is brought back to the present when there is a slight shuffle beside him and Lady Cora is sitting at his elbow instead of her brother, who has found himself a place at the farthest end of the table he can find without offending.

Stiles blinks at the sudden seat change, looking over to Scott to see if he could fill him in on what he might have missed while he was too busy trying not to act like an idiot in front of his Pair again, but Scott is avoiding his attempts for some strange reason, and Lady Cora was clearing her own throat while flashing Stiles a grin that had every hair on the back of his neck stand to attention.

Whatever it is that she has planned, something tells him that it is going to end in someone covered in blood; it’s not the fact that she is a Lycan that makes him think this, it’s the fact that he’s seen that expression on Lady Erica’s face before and it had taken the combined forces of Lord Boyd _and_ Lord Isaac to calm her down…

So, it is with more than a fair share of caution that he turns to her and asks, “Can I help you, my Lady?”

…only to be completely thrown when she states, “Tell me a bit about yourself, Emissary,” with all the grace and charm of the other Ladies of the Court, her tone as pleasant as a soft summer’s day.

“Uh...” Not sure what he’s supposed to say when she still looking at him like she’d like nothing more than to rip his throat out, Stiles’ gaze darts between Lady Cora, Derek, and Scott with an air of desperate confusion; his King simply shrugging his shoulders or shaking his head whenever Stiles' eyes meet his and Derek resolutely keeps his own gaze fixed on the table in front of him.

After a few moments of this, Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath and gives Lady Cora a bit of a forced smile. “I'm sorry, my Lady, but I'm not sure what it is that you would like me to say...?”

“Well, you _are_ going to be my brother's Pair and my pack-brother in less than a week's time, so I believe that there is much that we need to discuss.” Lady Cora tilts her body slightly, making Stiles feel even more like a trapped animal as she leans close enough for a low growl to sound from the other end of the table. “And just Cora will do, Emissary... or can I still call you Stiles?”

“Stiles is fine, my Lady, and I doubt that there is anything that I could tell you that would interest you, or really anything that Derek might find interesting enough to hear _from_ you.”

“Well, I'm sure that Derek would love to hear anything you have to say himself, no matter how mundane, if your King wasn't so determined to scare him off when he tries to talk to you.”

Stiles spins to growl “Scott!” at the now chagrined looking King, his inability to look him in the eye finally making sense, his Queen giving him a look of her own as well. “We’ve had this discussion over ten times already, I know that you have reservations about this, but despite what you might think, I am perfectly capable of making this decision **_myself!_** I don't need you scaring him off, Scott, I can handle this.”

Scott is starting to look properly chastised when Lady Cora decides to drawl, “After all, Derek _did_ come back to his rooms rather _late_ last night, King Scott; so it seems your Emissary has all of this rather well _in hand_.”

“ _Stiles_!” This time it's Scott that is glowering at Stiles, another low growl sounding at the other end of the table, “You _swore_ that this wasn't like-”

“It's _not_!” The quickness of Stiles' interjection has Cora leaning back toward him with a leer, which really isn’t helping the blush that Stiles is trying to fight down. “D- _Alpha Heir_ Derek just came to my room to _talk_ , to inform me of something that he had not wanted to discuss with nearly the entire Court listening in on, nor is it something I wish discussing at present either!”

“Did he threaten you? Is that why you can't say anything?” Scott’s voice is starting to take a hard note that Stiles knows is partly due to the paranoia that is starting that’s been tossed around the Court for _days_ now, but this is just taking it too far!

“ ** _No!_** Goddess, Sc-my King, Alpha Heir Derek did _not_ threaten me! He simply wanted to _talk!_ ” Stiles glances down the table, desperate for some kind of nod, a few words in defense or _something_ from Derek, but he’s _still_ studiously glaring at his plate as if he had been struck with complete deafness and can’t hear the argument that’s making even the more mild members of the Court take interest.

Especially since all his protests seem to fall on another set of deaf ears as Scott gives him a look that says he’s not as stupid as Stiles seems to think he is, his tone dryer than the meat on the table when he asks, “In the middle of the night?”

“I can name numerous times that you and the Queen had matters to discuss that seemed uncaring of the time of day, _Your Majesty_ ,” Stiles retorts, arms crossed as he returns his King's expression with as sarcastic an air can be, “as well as ignorant of the fact that there was a father who would gladly make a coat out of your skin, King or not, if he had found out about these meetings.”

“And _how_ many times did you warn me that those meetings were a bad idea?” Both of Their Majesties' skin is now as bright as Stiles’, something that he takes no small pleasure in despite the fact that Allison really didn’t deserve being dragged into this, but there is no less defiance in Scott's expression even after all of that and Allison has given up trying to interject some calm into the conversation, instead ignoring both of them while conversing in low tones with Lord Isaac. “Or that I couldn't go around letting my trouser ties do the thinking for me? Am I going to have to give you _the exact same_ talk you gave me?”

“By the Goddess' Grace, _it wasn't like that_ and did _you_ even listen to what _I_ said when the shoe was on the other foot?” Stiles rubs at his forehead in frustration at the headache that he can feel starting to form before he realizes that Cora and over half the Court are now listening in without even bothering to pretend they’re not, “Can we speak of this later? I will let you know what I can, but there are some things I _have_ promised to keep between Alpha Heir Derek and myself.”

Scott does not look like he agrees and is just opening his mouth to no doubt send Stiles’ entire stack of cards tumbling around his head when he’s cut off by a sharp intake of breath from Cora.

She’s looking between the two of them like she just realized the answer to a mystery or just had a revelation, like many members of the Court do whenever they spend too much time together and Stiles forgets that Scott is his Liege Lord as well as his friend, something that he _knows_ he should be more careful of as he watches Cora’s eyes narrow into thin slits.

“This doesn't have anything to do with Derek, does it?” Stiles’ own eyes widen as he realizes where her thoughts are taking her, but he is too slow to stop her before she continues speaking. “You just want Emissary Stilinski, and his Pairing to Derek will hinder him becoming a Third in your own Pairing, due to the fact that it is part of a treaty joining our lands.”

“ _ **CORA!!**_ ” Dual voices snap out the Lady’s name, Talia’s voice carrying something that makes Alpha Heir Laura straighten from where she is sitting beside her mother to move across the room, while Derek’s voice is more growl than words as he shoots up from his seat to glare down at his sister in a way that has Stiles wincing in sympathy despite what she insinuated only moments before.

“It is not your place to question the relationship between the Emissary and his King, Cora Elizabeth Hale, nor is it fit for one of my own to air such rumors.” Alpha Talia’s voice is quiet and flat, yet able to carry over the whispering of the Court as Alpha Heir Laura makes her way to her brother, coming up beside him to place her hand on his elbow and try to lead him away. “I believe you owe both he and His Grace an apology.”

“Forgive my rudeness, my Lords, I meant no ill will; I was just concerned for my brother and his future Pairing; it is obvious that the Emissary and the King are very close-” Derek growls low at that, cutting Cora off as his eyes flicker a pale blue before he lifts his gaze to meet Stiles’ for a few beats, his brows furrowing as the moments past before it seems as if his bluster is just _pulled_ out of him and he allows Laura to begin to lead him from the room.

It causes that twist from last night to turn in Stiles’ chest again to see Derek look so defeated and he is speaking before he can give it much thought:

“The King is no more to me than a brother, for all that we share no blood between us,” Stiles hesitantly starts and it makes Derek pause in his steps, Laura glancing back at him with a look that says he needs to continue. Swallowing, he focuses on the tense lines of Derek’s shoulders as he does just that, “I am to be Paired with _Derek_ and have no desire to lie with my King, despite how close we may seem. His puppy-ish good looks are no match for the fact that I see him as a sibling, albeit one that could lob my head off if I angered him enough.”

Derek snorts at that and Laura rolls her eyes at his attempt at a joke, even as Scott huffs that Stiles would more likely be thrown in a jail cell than beheaded, only to be refuted by Allison pointing out that he would drive his jailer to murder, anyway; it makes Derek sigh out a breath, but he continues to leave the room and the Court immediately begins whispering now that the show is over.

There are a few moments of Alpha Talia staring at the back of Cora’s head before she also exits the Dining Hall, and then Alpha Talia is staring at Scott and Stiles with almost the _exact same_ look that Cora had at the beginning of this whole mess.

Stiles immediately drops his gaze to his plate as what he told Derek last night makes itself known in the unnatural silence that has overtaken the head of the table: Derek’s mother is _scary_ and she hasn’t even _done anything_ yet!

It turns out that she doesn’t have to in the end, because there is a sigh from where Stiles’ father had been keeping out of the mess that the morning had become before he flatly states, “It's nice to see that you've inherited your father's negotiation skills, _my King_ , well done.”

Scott flinches as Stiles' gaze snaps to his father with a hissed, “ _DAD_!” that seems to bolster John's irritation even farther.

“No, son, you do _not_ get to take that tone with me, not when your friend- _your King_ -decided that the best political action to take was to rebuke the Lycan Heir a seat next to his future Pair _in front of the entire Court!”_

It was interesting to see how slumped a King could be while still sitting straight, Stiles being torn between agreeing with his father that Scott had taken things too far and defending his friend’s right as almost-brother and Sovereign to look out for him, fingers dancing a uneven tempo on the table.

“Do you know what that boy did for the entirety of the talk he had with me?” It seems Lord Johnathan is far from finished as he stares his King down with a look that Stiles is usually the one on the other end of, making Scott look far more cowed than before and causing Allison to be the one wincing in sympathy this time. “He spent _the entire time_ speaking of how well he would treat Stiles, that there would never be _any_ compliant from Stiles on his behavior and even _readily agreed_ to me using _wolfsbane_ on him if there was _any_ evidence that Derek had hurt Stiles.”

“He mentioned that, when he spoke to me last night,” Stiles' voice is little more than a whisper as he says this, bottom lip caught and worried between his teeth when he realizes he has the undivided attention of their group. “He had said that you would use them on him if he ever did something to offend me, but he never said anything about _agreeing_ to it!”

“You and I will speak more on that later, son,” John quips, sparing a quick look that tells Stiles there _will_ be a talk, no matter how he tries to get out of it, before he turns his attention back to the task at hand. “I understand that you want to protect Stiles, and that what Alpha Heir Derek said to me-with no offense meant to you and yours, Talia-could have been nothing but fancy words hiding a more sinister nature, but you can _not_ do what you did where others can fashion it into a weapon...”

“No offense taken, Lord Johnathan, as it is your right to be protective of your son,” Alpha Talia-and when did his father get on such good terms with the Lycan that they’re on _a first name basis?!_ -replies smoothly, as if this whole thing was simply no more important than a simple disagreement on what to have for dinner and not an insult against one of her own, against her _son_ and _heir_.

Stiles is insanely jealous of that stately calm and wishes he knew how to temper his impulsiveness into something that even _remotely_ resembled it.

“I do apologize, Alpha Talia,” Scott intones, a nervous look of his own darting in between Stiles’ father and the Hale Alpha, showing that he also caught the familiarity that they shared. “It was uncouth of me to snub your son so and I will make amends with him as well, if it would please you.”

He seems so _earnest_ when he says that, as if _nothing_ were more important than making sure she knew _exactly_ how sorry he was and that even Derek knew that it had been the _King_ that had been in error, that Stiles is completely unsurprised when Alpha Talia gives him a small nod and states, “It would please me very much, your Grace, for Derek to hear of your change of heart, although I can understand how the want to protect the ones you care for can sometimes cloud your judgment.”

Scott nods eagerly back at those words and it seems that even Stiles’ father agrees with her, but he has one last thing to say on the matter, “Just be glad that your mother didn't see the way that handled that; she would have had you by your ear and after him to apologize before Derek even left the hall!”

The way Scott pales at that very apt description has Stiles hiding a laugh in his drink even as he sees that they’ve garnered Alpha Talia’s interest, an amused note in her voice when she asks, “And where is the Queen Mother now? Is it not customary for her to have been at the Welcoming Ceremony as well?”

“She is on our northern border, caring for those wounded in battle,” There is a soft note in Johnathan's voice that has Stiles and Scott sharing a knowing look, their amusement growing as they see that Alpha Talia has caught it as well, but Johnathan is oblivious to the exchange as he continues, “Our good Queen Mother studied most extensively on the healing arts during her reign and she now uses that knowledge to make sure that every soldier makes it home from the battlefield.”

“Her quick thinking even saved my father when all hope seemed lost,” Stiles chimes in, glad of the change in topic and eager to keep it going. “It was when he was just a foot soldier in Sc-the King's first brigade, wasn't it?”

Scott nods and smiles at Johnathan, as if the man had not been chastising him only moments before, too much history to let it bother him for long now that his apology had been accepted. “He had saved my life, taking a blade that was surely meant to separate my head from my shoulders, killing the would-be assassin as well.”

The conversation is shaping up to be one of those really good stories they love to tell, Johnathan and Scott already arguing over whether or not it was Scott or Johnathan that made the killing blow that turned the tide, when a voice suddenly reverberates throughout the castle and effectively cuts them off mid-tirade.

“ ** _IT DOESN'T MATTER!_**”

The force of the bellow rattles the cutlery in the dining hall and causes many of the Court to tremble, calling out that the Goddess is angry and seeks to punish them, but Alpha Talia is already on her feet to charge after her son when something across the table makes her pause.

Stiles looks around to see what could have caused her confusion, and is startled to realize that he is also on his feet, feeling no less desperate to find and comfort the source of the call.

“I-” Stiles swallows when his first attempt at speech comes out as a shaken crackle, visibly collecting himself before he turns to his Liege Lord and Lady. “I must beg your forgiveness, Majesties, but I no longer have a stomach for breakfast and ask to continue our conversation at another time?”

Scott is readying himself to refuse the request, Stiles can see it as clear as day, but all it takes is a glance from Stiles' father and he's releasing a huff of breath before nodding, “We will discuss this more when you have settled yourself, Emissary Stilinski. I will see you at our normal midday meal?”

Stiles nods almost distractedly, already making his way down the dining hall even before the King has finished speaking, making both his Lord and father let out similar sighs of exasperated fondness at his actions.

He can’t really focus on that; all he can do is follow the direction the voice came from, the pounding of his heart following the mantra of **_go-go-go-go-go_** that’s repeating in his head and try to ignore the fact that as soon as he begged his leave, Alpha Talia had regained her seat…

It was something that he couldn’t think too hard on, frightened of what that might mean.

\----------------

\------------

\----------

Cora had forgotten how vile the Humans could be.

Or rather, Stiles had made her believe that there were more forgiving Humans in the Court than the ones that thought her kind were animals to be hunted and killed, made her believe that all the horror stories she heard from Peter about the things Humans would do to her kind were just that- stories.

Yet, more than that, he had made her hope that she would finally get back the brother that tucked her in at night, howled at the moon with her, and loved with all his heart.

_That_ hope had been killed the moment she had entered the Dining Hall only to be called a dog and have most of the Court either ignore the words or giggle at them, then have it buried six feet deep when she sees the Human’s King give her brother a look she is absolutely certain he _does not_ deserve the moment he stands beside Stiles, making him move away from the man _that is to be his Pair_ and spend the rest of the meal acting almost exactly the way he did before Stiles showed up at their Den.

Did the King _not_ want her brother to get to know his future Pair? Why did he even agree to this if he was going to be insulted by her brother's _mere presence?_ It angers her to see her family treated so, and she takes matters into her own hands by taking the seat that the King had refused Derek just a minute ago.

His glare simply makes her grin even more feral, Stiles looking in between the two like he's not sure if he should stay or join Derek on the other side of the hall, but deciding to be courteous and ask her how he could help.

The look on his face had been _priceless_ when she had responded with, “Tell me a bit about yourself, Emissary.”

He also seemed unable to answer that question, with his gaze darting between her, her brother, and his King for some kind of explanation like a hound trying to figure out what its master wants; it makes Cora hide a laugh behind her hand even as Stiles throws his hands up in frustration as he huffs out a breath and tells her that he’s unsure what it is that he could possibly tell her.

She had scoffed at that, remembering the ease at which he had interacted with her and her family when they had been at the Den, making a silent vow to talk to him with his King breathing down his neck; a King that she makes sure that she doesn’t show her back to, her mother and wolf telling her that there is more to this pup than what meets the eye, that this is also the pup that is holding her brother’s future hostage...

So Cora decides to play the interested-sister-future-pack mates card, leaning forward to block whatever expression Stiles’ boy-King is sending him as she informs him that Derek would be the one asking these questions himself if he was able, Derek growling at the other end of the table, _*Leave it alone, Cora. The King is only looking after his subject and there might be more to his relationship with Emissary Stilinski than what we know. Stop trying to make trouble.*_

She’s just about to answer when the tail end of Stiles’ conversation catches her attention, “-I don't need you scaring him off, Scott, I can handle this.”

Emboldened by the fact that Stiles at least is the same man that visited her at the Den, that he is standing up to his boy-King on their behalf, Cora decides to drawl, “After all, Derek _did_ come back to his rooms rather _late_ last night, King Scott; so it seems your Emissary has all of this rather well _in hand_.”

“ _Stiles!_ ” It’s almost hilarious how the boy-King’s voice almost overlaps Derek’s _*Cora!*_ on the other side of the Hall, “You _swore_ that this wasn't like-”

“It's _not!_ ” Cora has to grin at that, the blush on Stiles’ face telling her that there is more to this story than he’s saying. “D- _Alpha Heir_ Derek just came to my room to _talk_ , to inform me of something that he had not wanted to discuss with nearly the entire Court listening in on, nor is it something I wish discussing at present either!”

“Did he threaten you? Is that why you can't say anything?” She growls at that, her wolf wanting to rip the boy-King to pieces for even _suggesting_ something so vile, Stiles’ own anger the only thing that stops her.

He immediately snaps again that Derek wanted to discuss things that he didn’t want to talk about in the midst of an audience, something that Cora can vouch for if asked; the fact that Derek is easily embarrassed is something that she has taken advantage of _multiple_ times in her youth, but Stiles instead glances down the table to Derek, who doesn’t even try to speak up in his defense and makes Cora want to shake some _sense_ back into her brother’s thick skull...

After a few moments, Stiles turns back to his King and resumes their argument of whether or not Derek is a vicious, mindless Beast that threatens innocent members of the Court, something that Cora ignores altogether to chastise her brother.

_*You could have said something, Derek, other than damning yourself by giving an impression of a stone statue!*_

Unsurprisingly, and she really should stop setting herself up for disappoint at this point, Derek isn’t the one that answers her; instead Laura gives her a glare from Derek’s right and mutters, _*He told you to leave it alone, Cora, not to poke at it like a hornet’s nest! You causing trouble between the Emissary and the Human King is not helping our cause here!*_

Cora huffs and returns her attention to her own meal, even though her appetite had disappeared around the time that Gerard opened his mouth, the argument around her not abating in the slightest-

“I can name numerous times that you and the Queen had matters to discuss that seemed uncaring of the time of day, _Your Majesty_ , as well as ignorant of the fact that there was a father who would gladly make a coat out of your skin, King or not, if he had found out about these meetings.”

“And _how_ many times did you warn me that those meetings were a bad idea? Or that I couldn't go around letting my trouser ties do the thinking for me? Am I going to have to give you the _exact same_ talk you gave me?”

-and Cora can see other members of the Court looking on with various levels of interest and suspicion, her gaze staying on Gerard Argent for the longest; she had never like the Argent family, had fought with Derek when she found out that he had Courted Lady Katherine and had been secretly pleased when she found out Katherine had been killed, especially given how badly she had damaged Cora’s brother.

The fact that they now are working with these people makes her blood boil, makes her want to shift into something that can rip out lying tongues and accusing eyes, even more so when their King blatantly proves that the things Stiles promised were nothing more than pretty words…

“Can we speak of this later?” It seems that the arguing is done, or at least held for the time being as Stiles spares her a glance, only to realize that they have more than just her listening in now, “I will let you know what I can, but there are some things I _have_ promised to keep between Alpha Heir Derek and myself.”

The boy-King does not look like he agrees with this stipulation and Cora is struck by the thought that he is being far more upset about this whole thing than a King would have any right to be, despite the rather long, sordid history between their races, than Stiles' _own blood_ would be-and _is_ , going by the way the man that carries the same smell as Stilinski is watching the proceedings with an exasperated air-which could only mean that...

She must make some sort of sound, a gasp of understanding or a growl of betrayal, because both men are looking at her in surprise and it just makes that feeling of disappointment burn _hotter_ , especially when Stiles has the _gall_ to change his expression into _concern_ even as her eyes narrow in anger.

She had known Humans could be cruel, had learned that lesson when they took her father away from her, but this was beyond what she had thought they were capable of and it makes her speak without thinking, Stiles looking on in horror when he realizes that she _knows_ :

“This doesn't have anything to do with Derek, does it? You just want Emissary Stilinski, and his Pairing to Derek will hinder him becoming a Third in your own Pairing, due to the fact that it is part of a treaty joining our lands.”

“ ** _CORA!!_** ” The roar of her mother’s voice rumbling with the power of the Alpha behind it makes her cower in her chair, the instinct to submit wiping away all other emotions with the sheer force of it, but it’s Derek’s own voice coupling with a sudden lurch from where he’s sitting to towering over her that makes her stay in it.

“It is not your place to question the relationship between the Emissary and his King, Cora Elizabeth Hale, nor is it fit for one of my own to air such rumors.” Her mother’s voice still carries the Alpha rumble in it, letting Cora know just how much trouble she’s in, but she’s unable to take her gaze away from Derek’s enraged form to defer to her mother, even as Laura makes her way to their brother and try to lead him away. “I believe you owe both he and His Grace an apology.”

It takes a few moments for Cora to understand what is being told to her, a primal need to stay still in the face of Derek’s anger slowing her thoughts; it takes a low, almost inaudible growl from Talia to get her to even attempt to speak, much less muster up a decent enough apology.

“Forgive my rudeness, my Lords, I meant no ill will; I was just concerned for my brother and his future Pairing; it is obvious that the Emissary and the King are very close-” Derek growls low at that, cutting Cora off as his eyes flicker into their beta sight before he lifts his gaze-no doubt to meet Stiles’-for a few beats, his expression showing how much her words struck at a wound she didn’t even know was there.

Whatever it is that he sees there, it’s nothing good, and it shows almost immediately; after a few seconds of this silent observation, Derek deflates like a puppet with its strings cut and Cora doesn’t need to be a Lycan to see the despair on him as he goes to follow Laura from the room.

Even so, she’s a little shocked when Stiles decides to speak up, more so when her siblings stop and listen to what he has to say…

“The King is no more to me than a brother, for all that we share no blood between us. I am to be Paired with _Derek_ and have no desire to lie with my King, despite how close we may seem. His puppy-ish good looks are no match for the fact that I see him as a sibling, albeit one that could lob my head off if I angered him enough.”

She hears no lie in his heartbeat, but then again, she heard no lie when he spoke of how fervently the people of Beacon were tired of war and wanted peace, how the Pairing to Derek would be treated as the honor the Lycans held it to be, so maybe he has found some way to make it impossible to tell truth from lie.

In the end, it doesn’t matter; Stiles’ speech cause Derek to snort out a laugh and Laura rolls her eyes, meaning that they believe his pretty words again. It even makes the boy-King joke that Stiles would be arrested instead of beheaded, with his Queen teasing that he would drive his jailer to murder, the lot of them treating the whole thing as something that can be pushed under the rug and _forgotten_.

Derek and Laura leave under the playful banter, the rest of the Court chattering amongst themselves now that their entertainment is gone and since Cora can practically _feel_ her mother's glare on the back of her neck, she also retreats out to the hall as Talia begins smoothing any feathers that may be still be ruffled.

Her siblings are only at the end of the hallway when she spots them, Derek's frame a tense line despite the fact that Laura is doing her big sister, hand-on-your-shoulder-in-solidarity thing...

It's something that their mother has done ever since they were small and it's not just to them, it's also a quiet support to the other betas in the pack, Laura adopting it whenever someone needs it.

Her kind have always seen it as an Alpha habit, something that Derek rarely does-or even did, before Kate-and the rest of the Pack know what that means, but Laura’s been quietly ignoring it for the past few months and everyone knows better than to bring it up.

The fact that she's doing it now is evident how much the scene in the Great Hall troubled Derek; given that he's spent the past few weeks trying to pretend that nothing was bothering him, the fact that he's allowing the touch now tells the words that he will not speak, and shows Cora that there is one more person that she needs to apologize to.

“Derek!”

Her voice causes the tension Derek carries to tighten his stance even further, her own shoulders twitching at the way he looks like one good prod would cause him to shatter, even as Laura shoots her a look that says it would better if she held her tongue, “Not now, Cora.”

Cora was never one for bowing to her sister's orders so easily and she needs to fix whatever it was that happened back there. “Derek, will you listen to me for one second?”

Her words cause him to start walking again, Laura giving her another look as she mutters, “Just drop it,” as she follows him, which only causes Cora to speed up in an attempt to catch up with them.

“Derek Sebastian Hale, will you just _talk_ to me?!?” She is only a few steps away from them now and reaching out her hand to lend her own comfort, ignoring the way that Laura growls once more in warning and her wolf whines that something about all of this is _wrong_. “I only wanted to-”

“To _what_ , Cora?” Derek snaps, spinning around to face her and showing just how far she had pushed him; his eyes are flickering sapphires with suppressed rage and his beta features keep overtaking his human ones. “To show _the entire Court_ that this Pairing is as fragile as a newborn's skin? That the King is so distrustful of us that he questions my intentions with the _man that is to be my future Pair?_ I _told you_ to leave it alone, _what exactly did you think you were trying to prove in there?!?_ ”

His last question is not a roar, but it's a very close thing, with Laura apparently giving up all pretense of trying to keep the peace between the two of them and going to stand at the end of the hall to make sure that no Humans stumble upon one of the Hale's famous family spats.

The last time had been between their mother and Peter, the night Peter had come to the Den bloodied and bruised, telling them that they needed to leave before first light. It had frightened all of them, the way that Talia had looked at Peter, the way she had told him that they would talk about what happened later, and the way that he hadn’t even argued and _just did what she said_.

It was a while before things went back to normal after that, before Peter regained his arrogant attitude and their mother stopped acting as if the shadows were going to sprout Hunters at any moment…

Mentally shaking her head, Cora focuses on her brother, wondering at the fact that this is the first time she’s seen him this... _alive_ in _months_ … She ignores all the instincts screaming at her that this is _a bad idea_ and doesn't back down from the seething anger she can practically _feel_ radiating off Derek's form, matching his heat with her own.

“I was simply trying to see if my brother even had a _chance_ of some happiness in his future, despite the fact that he seems content to wallow in self-loathing! Excuse me for caring, _Derek_ , but I thought you would be _grateful_ if I made sure that you wouldn't be fighting for Emissary Stilinski's affection and time!”

“Which was absolutely useless because, as you helpfully pointed out, this is only a _political_ Pairing and it is nothing more than a line on paper that will keep us together _in the first place!_ ”

“That doesn't mean that their boy-King can dictate whether or not you can even _sit_ next to him, Derek! _Or_ accusing you of threatening his Emissary based off Stiles not telling him what the two of you talked about last night! Just because you will only be Paired in name does _not_ mean they can turn you into nothing more than a doll for them to play with as they see fit!”

“What were you _expecting_ , given the history between us? The King letting a strange man, who most of the Court have whispered to be dangerous, be placed next to someone he _obviously_ holds dear?” Derek keeps having to stop and breathe for a moment, his fangs making it hard to speak clearly; Laura makes an inquiring noise, as if she needs to help, but Derek shakes his head and narrows his eyes at Cora before continuing, “Allowing a few seats to be between Stiles and I is hardly making me out to be a doll, Cora! You letting all and sundry know that _I had been to his rooms_ did more damage than that!”

“As if there has never been a Pair that visited each other's bedchambers before!” Cora waves away the concern, catching Laura drop her face into her hands out of the corner of her eye. Her wolf warns her again that angering Derek further is _a bad idea_ , but she will _not_ let that boy-King take away something that has Derek being _Derek_ again, anger or not. “Stiles openly admitted that _the King himself_ was guilty of that in his Courtship of his own Queen! If they're going to treat you like some sort of Daemon that's stealing their Emissary away while sprouting words of peace and treaty, then I don't think-”

“It is not your place to decide whether or not this Pairing is happening; the only ones who can stop this are Mother and myself, which means that this _is_ happening, whether you like it or not.”

“Just because you want to punish yourself over some woman that never loved you in the first place, doesn't mean that I-”

“ _IT DOESN'T MATTER!_”

Cora knows that she pushed too far as Derek's voice echoes off the walls and they can hear silence throughout the entire castle for the space of a few heartbeats, their breathing the only sound before Derek angrily turns away from Cora as if the mere sight of her is more than he can bear.

She hadn't meant to say that, hadn’t meant to rub salt in a wound that was clearly still raw; she just didn't want him to do this because he felt he deserved it, that because some heartless bitch made him think that he was unlovable, but Derek is speaking before she can apologize.

“It doesn't _matter_ , because none of this is _real_ , I'm being Paired to someone to help our family and not due to love.” His voice is devoid of all emotion by the time he’s finished and Cora has never wished more fervently for the ability to take back something she has said. “It _doesn't matter_ if I'm happy or not, Cora, all that does matter is that this Pairing happens and that our family can finally live in _peace._ ”

This time, when Laura reaches out to lead Derek away, Cora does nothing to stop them.


	7. Finding A Middle Ground

Walking away from Cora without shifting was one of the hardest things Derek has ever had to do. Something telling him that this was just the beginning of what’s ahead of him _and he hasn’t even been Paired to Stiles yet_ … 

Laura keeps shooting him looks as they wander through the halls of Beacon, no doubt picking up the misery and guilt drifting off Derek’s form, but he’s too intent on putting as much distance between him and the entire Court to let her know just how sorry he was for ruining all of this before it even had time to start.

Even though Stiles had claimed to have no desire for his King and that he was committed to being Paired to Derek, his heart was still pounding that frightened dance in his chest from seeing Derek start to shift into his Beta form, and the stench of fear on him was so great that Derek was sure that even the Humans could tell. 

 _That_ had been the real reason he had left the Dining Hall, had let Laura lead him away from Cora and her stupidity; he had been _horrified_ that he had scared Stiles, and that one of the few people that saw him as something other than some bloodthirsty Beast now knew better.

He dimly hears someone calling his name, but he has fallen too far into his own head to assure Laura that he’s fine… mainly because he’s not sure if that’s true anymore…

“Alpha Heir Derek!”

He tenses, much like he had when Cora had called out to him, but he turns at the approaching footsteps and tries to school his face into a welcoming expression as the very man he was thinking of runs up to them.

“ _Goddess Above_ , you can move fast when you want to!” Stiles gasps as he attempts to catch his breath, a small smile hovering at the corner of his lips, almost as if he’s uncertain if he should give into the mirth or not. 

Derek’s heart sinks in dismay, because he knows that Stiles is all motion and action, that anyone who has spent any time in his presence can see that. The fact that he’s holding back from something as simple as a smile makes Derek want to _howl_ with the pain of it.

“Forgive us, Emissary, but we felt it was prudent to leave after Derek’s… reaction to Cora’s allegations.” Laura sounds less than pleased that Stiles is there, not because of the man himself, but she was always keen to when Derek needed space and she can see that Stiles’ presence wasn’t helping Derek’s state of mind. “I do apologize if either of my siblings’ actions caused any problems for you or the King.”

“Oh, no! No, no, no, no!” Stiles flails his arms in denial, causing Laura to flinch away when one of his hands flies too close to her face, making something in Derek’s chest twist in a bitter sort of fondness. “It was no trouble at all! There has been a Lord or Lady claiming the very same thing almost every day ever since Scott and I came of age, so Lady Cora saying that wasn’t really anything new, it was just that we had hoped that we would have more time before the rumor came to you! Uh, that’s not to say- What I mean is…”

“It is completely clear what you mean, Emissary.” Laura states, thankfully cutting Stiles off before he can go any further, his face a bright hue that threatens to take over his entire form as he rubs a hand against his cheeks, an abashed expression overtaking his features. “Is there a reason that you followed us out here? If not, then we must say good day and be on our way…”

“Oh, yes! I was actually hoping I could speak to Alpha Heir Derek?” Stiles’ eyes dart over to Laura before settling on Derek again. “In private?”

“I’m not sure what more could be said, Emissary,” Derek is startled that Stiles followed them in the first place, and is certain that him being there is only going to end in ruin, something that Derek would prefer to put off for as long as possible. “I’m sure that you have other duties that you have to look forward to.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.” Stiles’ heart has taken on that erratic rhythm again as he leans forward, gently asking, “Please, Derek? For only a few moments of your time?”

He should say no to Stiles’ softly worded request and let Laura lead him away from all of this, should pull himself away from Stiles’ beseeching eyes and the way that he makes Derek’s walls fall down without any effort, make him want to give in to any demand that the Emissary asks of him.

He _should_ say no.

Instead, he finds himself sighing at his inability to deny the man in front of him anything as he nods at Stiles’ entreaty and turns to Laura with, “A moment, please, to speak with the Emissary.”

She seems like she’s a heartbeat away from telling him that he’s gone completely crazy and that she’s going to toss him on the first chariot that leaves Beacon’s halls, but something in the way Stiles looks at her, the way that _Derek_ looks at her, causes her to let out a sigh to rival his own as she relents with, “Only a _moment_ ,” before walking to the other end of the hall.

“She’ll still be able to hear us, won’t she?” Stiles mutters, fingers wringing in front of him as he watches Laura’s retreating back, “I really wanted to talk to you in private and I’m pretty sure that this is something that you don’t want her listening in to, _anyway_.”

“She’s not going to be listening in, not really,” Derek looks over to Laura as well, taking in the stance she has at the end of the hallway and marvels at the grace in which she holds herself; this isn’t the first time he’s found himself envious of that simple ease and he knows it won’t be the last. “She’ll be listening to our heartbeats and the tone of our voices, if not the words, so anything you have to say _will_ stay between the two of us…”

Stiles nods at that, but Derek can tell that he isn’t listening to a word that’s being said, so he states only for Laura’s ears, _*Please leave the hallway as well, Laura. He asked for privacy, and seeing you standing there like the Goddess’ own vengeful warrior is not helping him believe he has that.*_

Laura turns to meet his gaze for a few moments, her own expression saying exactly what she thinks of this as Stiles gets his own quiet once over, but in the end she simply nods slightly and makes her way to the door at the end of the hall with a soft, _* Don’t let him make you feel guilty for what you are, Derek. No treaty is worth that, not even this one.*_

“Wait, where is she-?”

“You seemed uncomfortable with her here and asked that we have a moment of privacy, so I requested that she wait just outside the door while we talked. Keeps other people from trying to hear something they shouldn’t as well.”

Stiles laughs a little at that, his gaze flickering back to Derek with a nervousness that makes Derek worry about what the subject of this ‘talk’ might be, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask before Stiles is speaking again.

“I needed to speak to you about the conversation that we had the other night and the implications that you made about our… sleeping arrangements,” Stiles’ face flushes at this, but he gamely pushes on despite his embarrassment. “After you had left, it came to my attention that your _offer_ might have something to do with the ‘tradition’ that we consummate our Pairing on our Pairing Night, and not out of- I just wanted to let you know it does not have to be that way in this case, and I am more than willing to have additional chambers set aside for your own means, if you so desire.”

“Is that your desire as well?” Derek is a little thrown at this, certain that Stiles was going to ask about what had happened in the Dining Hall and unsure as to what, exactly, brought this on in the first place; he seemed more than willing last night…

“My desires are unimportant in this matter, considering everything that the Lycans have already-”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree, Emissary,” Stiles’ eyes widen at Derek’s words and he has the unique pleasure of realizing that not many people manage to cut Stiles off when he gets going, “as you seem to be under the delusion that I made my ‘offer’, as you so call it, for purposes other than intent. Yet, as you have also pointed out, I did not ask if this was something that you wanted to pursue, so I ask if this arrangement is something that you wish, as well. If so, I will gladly take the rooms you set aside and make no overtures for anything more.”

It made that vicious feeling from when they first met stab at Derek’s chest, the thought that he might have somehow misread that night and forced Stiles into a situation where he felt he had to act in a certain way in. He drowns in uncertainty the entire time Stiles stares at him, throat working as he tries to form words that will let Derek know just what kind of a man he is.

“It is not the fact that I find you… undesirable, or that the thought that being bedded by you is displeasing,” Stiles mutters, his scent sweetening and heartbeat steady in a way that makes Derek let out an almost inaudible breath of relief. “It is more of the fact that we do not know each other all that well, and that the thought that you might be bound to bed me due to some misplaced sense of duty or to honor your word is repugnant to me.”

“You have my word as a Lycan, Emissary, that any bedding that happens between the two of us would come from the mutual desire to do so, _not_ out of duty or expectations.”

The further sweetening of Stiles’ scent, as well as the redness of his cheeks, makes Derek fight to hide a smile as Stiles stutters, “W-well, I’m glad that’s all t-taken care of and we’ve come to a mutual agreement, but I’ll make sure you have your own chambers set aside on the off chance you desire your own space; I have been told often enough that many people can only handle being in my presence for a set amount of time.”

“Some even contemplate murder, or so I hear.”

Stiles grows still at the reminder of what happened only a few moments ago and Derek wonders at what made him say something so damn confrontational. They had been having a pleasant conversation, even more so when he realized that Stiles’ offer wasn’t out of discomfort on his own part, but to make sure that _Derek_ felt comfortable instead, and Derek was just starting to relax when _that_ comes flying out of his mouth!

An apology for so crudely breaking their banter is just passing the tip of his tongue when Stiles suddenly blurts out, “If it is not too much trouble, would you mind showing me again?”

“What?”

“Your Other form that you showed to your sister at breakfast, the Lycan face that the Goddess blessed your family line and all that came before you with… Can I see it again?”

“I…,” Derek tries to swallow past all the questions fighting to be heard, unsure as to why Stiles would want to see his Lycan form or ask so earnestly; it had _frightened_ him, made him _flinch_ when Derek had looked at him earlier, and now he’s acting as if seeing it would be a secret pleasure…?

Is it a way for him to get used to the horror of it?

For Stiles to steel himself against the sight of it, to force himself to learn to live with the nightmare of his Pair’s nature?

To accept that he’s been bound to a Beast?

Stiles’ face falls at his silence and he mutters, “I meant no disrespect, I simply was thrown when you showed your Lycan face at breakfast-”

“You were _terrified_ , Emissary, so much that I was sure even your own _King_ could smell it!”

He startles again at Derek’s outburst, but it is only a moment before Stiles is settled and staring at Derek like he’s a puzzle that’s equally annoying and intriguing, yet is no less eager to solve. “I was more uncertain of the fact that I was about to witness the murder of my Pair’s sister by his own hand, more than anything to do with your Lycan side… Is that why you-?”

“The possibility of me killing Cora is about as likely as your King killing you, as much as the desire to rip out her throat may seem like a good idea at the time,” Derek can see that Stiles is getting frustrated by not being able to finish his thoughts, but Derek wasn’t sure how he could answer _that_ question without giving away how much the Emissary’s favor meant to him, to admit to how much sway the man already held.

“Just… give me a moment.”

Stiles stills, his eyes wide and eager, a curious light in them that causes Derek to close his own to avoid seeing that curiosity transform into horror as he gently pulls his wolf to the forefront and awaits Stiles’ reaction.

The touch upon his cheek is _not_ what he was expecting, and Derek is so tensed from nerves and ill thoughts that he is moving before he knows it, grabbing Stiles’ wrist in his own hand as his eyes fly open to see Stiles’ face so much closer to his own and the Emissary’s other hand frozen in the air between them, as if he had been in the motions of bringing it up as well.

Aside from the startled skip his heart gives at Derek’s sudden movement and the look of surprise that fades as he takes in Derek’s own expression, there is no trace of the fear that had been there this morning when Stiles swallows and brings his other hand to pick at Derek’s collar as he quips, “Have I overstepped, Alpha Heir?”

It is meant to be a joke, a way to loosen the tension that has filled the air around them, but there is too much in Stiles’ voice and the tone too soft to make it as lighthearted as he no doubt wanted it be; in the end, it matters little, because Derek has too many thoughts going through his mind to pay attention to the question.

There is a steady heartbeat under his fingers, that inquisitive light still shining in Stiles’ eyes, and a content smell coming from the human in front of him that is almost as appealing as the heady scent of his desire had been. As a matter of fact, Derek is fighting off the urge to dip forward and see if he can _taste it_ off Stiles’ skin.

Every single sense that Derek lives by is telling him the same thing: Stiles is fascinated and intrigued by the sight of his wolf, but more than that, _he is completely unafraid of it_.

His silence is starting to make Stiles nervous, however, and there is a moment that he tries to remove his hand, making a whine slip past Derek’s lips before he can stop it as he tightens his grip on Stiles’ wrist, throat working to force words past the lump that’s suddenly making it hard to speak.

“Is there something I should avoid doing? A Lycan ritual that I should complete?” Stiles thankfully seems to tell that it’s becoming difficult for Derek to speak the longer they stand in their little tableau, and has no problem filling in for him, letting out a huff of breath as he continues, “You have followed all of our customs and made very little known of your own, so forgive me if I wanted to make sure I don’t offend.”

“Our throats are considered vulnerable, just like Humans, so having someone touch it is considered rather… intimate.” Derek watches as Stiles’ gaze drops to his neck, making him swallow and for Stiles’ eyes to snap back up to meet Derek’s own. “It is something we do to show our trust, so it only happens between Pack members, family, or… or mates.”

His confession is met with nothing more than a slightly gaping mouth before Stiles breathes out a muted, “Oh.”

Not sure how else to explain _how much_ Stiles’ acceptance of his Lycan side means to him, Derek simply gives his hand another soft squeeze before releasing it from his hold and allowing Stiles to look-and hopefully, touch-his fill.

Which he does, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood between the two of them or perhaps just because his curiosity needs an outlet, by drawing his fingers up to Derek’s brow and quipping, “Can you tell me where these went, then?” with a chuckle that once more has Derek acting before thinking as he nips at the heel of Stiles’ hand, a playful growl slipping past his lips.

He has a moment of worry when Stiles yelps and pulls his hands away, but they don’t leave his face for long, it’s only a tick of the heart before he slides them into Derek’s hair and mutters, “Alright, alright, no joking about disappearing face hair. Message received, Sourwolf.”

The action brings their faces closer together and Derek has a few moments of looking at a possible future that shows no fear of being so close to fangs and Other, of playfulness and ridiculous pet names, before there is a sharp knock on the door at the end of the hall and Laura’s voice is coming through loud enough for even Stiles to hear.

“I hate to interrupt this, but we have company coming that I’m sure both of you want to talk to.” 

\----------------

\------------

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It’s a more than a little intimidating being left with Lord Johnathan and Alpha Talia, especially after his blunder from earlier, and Scott finds himself wishing that he insisted that Stiles stay at the table with them. He’s much better at smoothing over missteps than Scott is, despite the fact that he was the one that caused them half the time, but Scott also knew that keeping Stiles there would have been an even graver insult than before.

Nonetheless, he finds himself wishing that there had been a way for Stiles to stay at the table when both adults turn their gaze toward him with an eerie synchronicity.

 ** _Maybe if you had done as you promised, _**a voice that sounds suspiciously like Stiles whispers in his ear, ** _and let your Emissary make his own choice, then he’d still be sitting here…_**

Clearing his throat in an attempt to both silence the voice and relieve some of the pressure of being under these particular stares, Scott pulls a smile as he asks, “Was there something that you wished to ask me, Alpha Talia? We are soon to be joined in both treaty and land, so I’m sure there is much we can learn from each other.”

A soft hum meets his request, Alpha Talia’s gaze not lessening one iota, and Scott is a moment away from throwing himself to his knees at her feet and begging her to stop staring at him like that when she finally relents.

“I hope that there might be less derogatory comments toward me and mine, King Scott; we have been promised a union that was to be beneficial for both of us, a union that we were quite uneasy to originally agree to, and I would hate to see my son in a Pack where the Alpha has no control over his Betas…”

Flinching at the reminder of Gerard’s comments and the start of what caused the problems he now found himself in, Scott was more than thankful that Allison decided to step in and add her own thoughts.

“I must apologize for my father’s hateful words and assure you that his actions are not the same as His Majesty’s or my own. It is hard to curb such words when they come from family, and we hope that we can amend this problem soon.”

The Hale Alpha turns that unnerving gaze on the Queen, sizing her up as she had Scott, but his wife shows that she is his rock and armor as she meets the Alpha’s gaze head on, her head held high and making a note of admiration flicker across Alpha Talia’s face.

“It is good to see that your Emissary’s words about the Queen were true, and that you are willing to admit when there is a problem within your people.” The Hale matriarch nods softly, as if there was something that she had just decided, something that she had been wondering until that very moment. “Very well, the Hale Pack will still hold to our agreement for now, as it seems that the words against us are not shared and only spoken by those who wish to spread discord.”

Feeling an overwhelming rush of relief as he makes sure to get Stiles a jug of his favorite honeyed mead, as well as a new bow for Allison since she has been worrying that the string in her old one is fraying, Scott’s grin becomes easier to maintain as he shifts into a more comfortable seat. “We are happy to hear that you are still willing to enter a treaty with us, Alpha Hale, and we will also take better care to make certain parties know that their words are unwelcome.”

Certain parties are sitting in the middle of their own conference and sending calculating looks to where Scott is holding Court, seeming to simply play the part of a concerned Lord making sure that the ‘unknown Others’ are unable to cause harm to their Liege Lord. It is a clever act that has most of the Court on the man’s side, with his vulgar comments so far and few between that not many try to look beneath the surface.

The only reason that he doesn’t just banish Gerard and his ilk from his Court is because he is smart enough-despite what his Emissary may say-to see that not having someone so violently opposed to the Hales and Others like them where he can keep them under close watch would be foolishness to the extreme, as well as make this war a certainty instead of the stressful possibility it is now.

There is also the added complication that Gerard is his wife’s grandfather, so the more… _permanent_ ways of dealing with the problem-also voiced by his Emissary-are unavailable to him as well; as challenging as the man is, Scott does not want the last of Allison’s family to meet the same end as her aunt.

“I would hope so.” Alpha Talia’s words bring Scott’s attention back to the dining table as her gaze seems to be resting on the same person as Scott, a slight curl to her lip the only evidence of her distaste as she continues, “If certain parties continue as they are, then I will be forced to take action, for the protection of my son and Pack.”

A throat being cleared brings his attention to Lord Isaac at his elbow, the man’s quiet interruption at odds with his normal snarky behavior, but it seems that he can pick up on the tense mood at the table as he brings his news and no doubt trying to give his King a moment to come up with a way to ease the tempers that have been flared up.

“Apologies for interrupting, Your Majesties and Honored Guests, but we have received word from our neighbors in the West that their daughter has gone ‘missing’ again. Her last known whereabouts have her heading in this direction, and they ask that King Scott keeps an eye out for their ‘wayward princess’ to make sure that she makes it back home safely.”

Scott can’t help but snort at the message even as he sees Alpha Talia give the pair of them a confused frown, causing Lord Johnathan to explain, “The Martins of Redding have a daughter that they seem to think needs every moment of her day mapped out for her, causing her to ‘run away’ every few months to Beacon in an attempt to find some peace and quiet.”

Talia’s brows furrow no further, and her posture is the same relaxed stature as when they started this conversation, but there is something that makes a few of the Court closest to her shift in discomfort or _even move to a different seat_ as she asks, “Is there a reason that the girl travels to a kingdom that is leagues away from her own when she is feeling disquiet?”

Allison breaks the tension by letting loose a quick giggle, before straightening her expression into one more befitting the situation as she explains, “Nothing so troubling, Alpha Talia; we would not let such a travesty continue, not even for a neighboring kingdom. At one of our Emissary’s visits many years ago, he met what he called ‘a blessed daughter of the Goddess Herself’ that he swore he was to woo and Pair before the year was over.”

The description makes Talia snort and Allison shares a smile with Scott before continuing, her eyes alight as she speaks of her best friend and closest confidant, including both of her Pairs.

“However, while Lady Lydia wasn’t impressed with Stiles’ attempts at Courtship, she _did_ appreciate the way he didn’t immediately dismiss her when she spoke nor was he intimidated by her intelligence. When her own people’s ‘stupidity’-as Lydia so delicately puts it-becomes too much, she takes the journey to Beacon to speak with Stiles, as he is ‘one of the few people that don’t bore her within the few moments of meeting them’ and uses the time to breathe without being told how long to hold her breath for.”

“Although,” Lord Johnathan interjects, a playful look in his eyes-one that he refuses to admit that he shares with his son-as he sips from his cup, “it seems interesting that the lovely Lady Lydia’s excursions have been around the same times as Sir Parrish’s returns from his crusades have been, as if one or the other might have heard of such events. It might appear that it is not Stiles that she comes to visit within Beacon’s walls this time…”

Allison’s eyes widen at the former General’s words and she replies in an innocent tone that fooled no one, “Are you saying that Lady Lydia would have some other reason to visit then Stiles’ upcoming Pairing? Or that Sir Parrish did not also hear news of these glad tidings and is coming for other reasons than to bless the joyful union?”

Lord Johnathan scoffs, his expression still relaxed and playful, and Scott sees this as the perfect opportunity to make his excuses so that he can find his Emissary to tell him the good news of Lady Lydia’s visit, perhaps even start preparations for the Lady’s arrival, before realizing that there may be a problem, given the addition of the Hale Pack at this time.

“Alpha Talia,” Scott starts slowly, wondering how to phrase this question without offending, knowing that this is something that he will have to tread carefully with, yet also knowing that this is something they need to deal with _right now_ as the spectacle at breakfast has given him cause for concern, “is Alpha Heir Derek… a jealous person?”

The atmosphere around the table changes again, both Allison and Lord Johnathan giving him twin looks of disappointment as Talia’s tone tenses in response, “Not particularly, as far as I have seen. Is there a reason why?”

“My Emissary is very familiar with the Lady Lydia, seeing her as a sister when he realized that she did not want his Pairing,” Scott answers, cutting right to the chase and turning the previous looks of disappointment into understanding. “If there are no rumors of my intimacy with Stiles, then there are whispers of his closeness with the Lady Lydia and the possibility of… dalliances between the two. I worry that this may cause problems between Alpha Heir Derek and Stiles if the man would to hear of this and take it… poorly.”

“I believe that Derek will be amenable to the Lady, as close as you say she is to the Emissary, given that he understands that there is nothing to question.” Talia hums lowly, a thoughtful look on her face that reminds Scott suddenly of his own mother, making him miss her and the steady presence she provided at talks like these. “I ask that when you inform Emissary Stilinski of Lady Lydia’s impending arrival, you ask that he tell Derek of their friendship and allow him warning of the whispers that may occur, so that we may avoid unwanted accusations.”

Grimacing at another reminder of their disastrous morning, Scott nods as he rises from the table, motioning for Isaac to follow him as he makes his farewell. “It would be my pleasure, Alpha Talia. I hope I may excuse myself, and see you at the midday meal?”

Nodding, Talia rises as well before dipping into a small curtsy, her neck slightly bared as she makes her own excuses, also leaving the table and softly stating, “I hope we can talk more soon, King Scott, Queen Allison, Lord Johnathan, but I will have to excuse myself as well, as I have a few wayward Betas to find and matters to see to. I agree to joining your Majesties for our next meal, as well as with the rest of my kin, if it would please you?”

Allison nods happily before drawing Lord Johnathan back into the conversation they had started before breakfast had been interrupted and Scott gives the departing Alpha a bow of acknowledgement as they part ways, Isaac in step behind his Liege Lord down the corridors of Beacon.

There are a few moments of silence, no doubt Isaac is waiting until they are out of the earshot of both Man and Other, before he sums up the events of the day that-Goddess give him strength!-isn’t even over yet.

“That could have gone better.”

“Well, there is still no threat of war on the horizon, although I do see a bit of bloodshed on the Hale’s side, so I am willing to look at our blessings than tempt the Daemon to court us with discord.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“I will need to gather my counsel together to alert them to the Lady Lydia’s upcoming visit, and make sure that her rooms in the castle are put to rights before she arrives.”

“Yes, your Grace. Shall I alert the kitchens to prepare the Lady’s favorites?”

Scott nods, pausing in the hallway as he stops Isaac with a hand on his shoulder, waiting until a few Lords pass them before speaking. “As soon as we hear she is within the boundaries of Beacon, I want a score of Bannermen to escort her the rest of the way; tensions are already high and I don’t want any of the naysayers of the Court to use this as a time to strike.”

Isaac nods, his earlier playfulness gone and a steely glint in his eye that tells Scott that the man will count himself among the knights that bring Lydia to the castle, making Scott move his hand from Isaac’s shoulder to the back of his neck in a gentle squeeze.

“Tell me what you think of the Hales.”

“Your Grace?”

“I have spoken to both my Queen and Emissary about our new treaty, as well as the people it deals with, I need to know what my Shadow Knight has to say about the Lycans that will share our hearth and home.”

Redness blooms across Isaac’s face at the name Allison had given him when they first became a Triad, when one or the other would wake from him prowling around the bedroom, checking for enemies where there were none. It’s a light thing, to relax the tension of Isaac’s shoulders, but to also remind him that he is just as important to Scott as Stiles and Allison are, and that his words matter more than most to his King.

“Alpha Talia seems like a formidable woman, one that I would not cross even if the Goddess Herself demanded it, but she seems to take this occasion as seriously as we do and appears to care very deeply for her children.” Isaac hums a little before continuing, “I have not spent enough time with the remainder of the Hale Pack to form any opinion of them, but Lady Cora seems like she is not one to anger or misspeak to.”

They share a chuckle at that bit of understatement before Scott schools his face back into a somber expression as he turns the conversation back to more serious matters. “You and Stiles will be the closest to the Hales while the Pack is here, with you guarding Lady Lydia and Stiles Paired to Alpha Heir Derek, so I need the pair of you to look after yourselves-”

“You know that I would guard Lord Stiles with my life, your Grace!” Isaac seems to realize that he just interrupted his King and ducks his head, years of living under his father’s heavy hand making him tense, but all Scott does is pull him closer to press a gentle kiss against the man’s forehead.

“I know that, Isaac, but I want you to look after yourself as well. This whole thing is only happening because we don’t want to go to war, I would hate myself forever if something happened to someone I love while I was too busy trying to keep an eye on everything else.”

“Not to mention, the Queen would have your hide, as we all know I’m the prettier of the two of us.” It is now Isaac’s turn to try to lighten the mood, a playful smirk slipping across his features as Scott pretended to give him a smack across his shoulders, before he also allowed the seriousness of the situation to fall over them again. “I will be as diligent as if Lady Lydia were the Queen or yourself, your Grace, there will be no need for worry.”

“There may be no need for it, but I doubt that will stop me.” Scott gives Isaac one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back and nodding at the taller man, allowing the role of ruler and Liege Lord to fall over his shoulders. “I will need to find my wayward Emissary before the day is out and you have arrangements that need to be made.”

“I will see to it, your Grace.” Isaac follows his King’s example and focuses on what needed to be done, shifting so that his stance is more militaristic and the softness from before is gone. “Shall I send the Emissary to the meeting chamber if I see him?”

Scott nods absentmindedly, bidding Isaac good day as the man makes his way down the hallway to follow his King’s commands, leaving Scott alone with his thoughts.

He stands there for only a few moments, contemplating the knowledge that-aside from a few members-the Hale Pack had made such an impression on his family that a few of them even _defended them_ against the slander that other members of the Court threw their way…

Or even the slights that their own family members would say.

Granted, Alpha Heir Derek seemed like he was rather quick to anger, and that it took both his Alpha _and_ sister to keep him from acting like the animal that Gerard and his ilk always claimed the Hales were.

 ** _I doubt you’d be in the best of moods if someone claimed that the Alpha was trying to keep your Pair from you_** , that voice that sounds like Stiles mutters again, its tone so similar that Scott can almost _see_ his Emissary crossing his arms at him, **_or that the man that arranged for your Pairing in the first place was now casting aspirations on your character_**!

Huffing out a breath, Scott has to admit to himself that his inner Stiles is right, that there were things said that would make any man want to defend himself, and so he makes his own way down the halls, content that his original misgivings about the Hale Pack were wrong…

…even if he still thinks Alpha Heir Derek is a bit of an ass.


	8. More Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note; in this fic, a Lycan's eyes denote his/her rank in the Pack; red is Alpha, blue is Beta, and yellow is Omega.  
> There are Alpha Pairs that lead the Pack, Betas that fight and protect the Pack, where Omegas are on the outskirts and generally are the 'suspicious' or 'trial members' of the Pack.
> 
> I thought this may help shed some light on the reason certain Hale members have the Other eye color they do.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles is _really_ getting tired of people and events interrupting any time he has a moment alone with Derek. This usually happens right before he or Derek are about to say or do something that Stiles is almost entirely sure he would want _complete_ privacy for…

So, when he hears Laura call for their attention right when it felt like _Derek_ was going to be the one to kiss him this time (something that sends a little thrill thrumming through Stiles as he remembers the way their last kiss went), Stiles believes that he has more than enough cause to be feeling a bit upset. He takes no time in making this known even as he reluctantly moves away from Derek.

“As the man trying to get to know his future Pair, I have to say that all of these interruptions are really starting to grate on my nerves… Why, I’m half tempted to lock Derek away with me merely for a few moments of peace than anything scandalous and _that_ is saying something!”

His comment also causes Laura, who had been in the process of opening the door to let their interloper in, to burst out in surprised giggles as Derek’s entire face _blooms_ into a rather attractive shade of red.

“I take it that things are going well between you and our Lycan visitors, then?” Deaton muses as he enters the room, giving a slight dip of his head to both Derek and Laura--“My Lord, my Lady.” --before he fixes Stiles with his trademark look of mild interest.

“It would be going much smoother if we weren’t being pulled away from our discussions every time it looks like we’re making any headway.” Stiles’ comment is paired with a very pointed look at the door, something that Deaton unsurprisingly ignores.

“I had been looking for Alpha Heir Derek for quite some time now, as there were a few things I felt we needed to discuss before the Coupling Ceremony at the end of the week.” Deaton states, either unaware or uncaring of the faces that Stiles is making at him.

(Considering that he had Laura nearly in stitches from her position by the door, Stiles is pretty sure that it is because Deaton has decided to ignore him).

A frown has bent the brows that Stiles had just smoothed over as Derek’s gaze darts between Stiles and Deaton, almost as if he’s looking for some sort of hint as to what is expected of him, before he asks, “How can I be of service, Lord Deaton?”

“The King has put me in charge of officiating your ceremony, and I was curious about any Lycan rituals you might want to include in the festivities?”

“I’m… not sure? Isn’t this a question better suited for my m- Alpha?” A hint of red is there and gone in Derek’s cheeks at the familiar stumble, his eyes darting over to Stiles before he focuses on Deaton again. “I have not seen many Lycan Pairings, as most of our family was wed before I was born, and neither I nor my younger sister have sought out a Pairing of our own… until recently.”

“Surely you were present at Lady Laura’s Pairing?” Deaton asks, with a nod at the Lady in question.

“No…” Now it is Laura who has a blush upon her cheeks, something that delights and intrigues Stiles in equal amounts. “No, my own Pairing was a rather… harried affair and he had not known of it until I returned home with an additional member more than when I had started out.”

“Nor do I blame you for your haste, sister, given the circumstances.” Derek insists. There was an awkwardness in his words that was missing in the moments that were just between he and Stiles.

The realization makes something small and a bit selfish hiding in Stiles’ chest preen at the implication that Derek is starting to loosen up around him, mayhap even hold him in some fondness.

“I see…” Deaton’s speculative hum brings Stiles back from his own musings, just in time for him to catch the look the Healer gives Derek’s sister. But before he can question the man on it, Deaton is giving the lot of them a smile, continuing on. “Then I shall take my questions to Alpha Talia and see if there are some secrets I may learn at her knee. I shall call upon you again on the morrow, for we will have to practice to make sure that any added rituals will not interrupt the ceremony.”

With those final words, Deaton gives them a serene nod and exits out the very door he just entered.

“Practice?” Both Hale siblings ask the question, making Stiles snort at the look that they exchange before his mood sobers at the reminder that he is to be Paired to Derek in half a fortnight’s time.

“Yes, to make sure that no missteps bring about bad luck upon the Pairing. It would be an evening’s work if this was a normal Pairing. However, given the circumstances…” Stiles gives Derek a smile at the phrase Derek had used only moments before. “…I have no doubts that Deaton will want to make a day of it, just to be sure.”

Derek looks a little uneasy at this news, while Laura looks torn between being sympathetic of her brother’s plight and wanting to tease him for some part of it. In the end, she decides to do a little of both.

“Derek has never been one for dancing, Emissary, so if that is going to be a major part of the ceremony, then it might be best if you start practicing now. Don’t worry, Derek, I’m sure that you won’t step on your Pair’s poor feet more than a dozen times!”

Derek growls at her for that, which does nothing but earn him laughter, and Stiles must clear his throat to get the siblings to notice that he is still there.

(Given how… _hostile_ Laura was when he first approached them, Stiles is hopeful that this lightheartedness is proof that his talk with Derek and their ease afterward has softened her toward him a bit.)

“There is no dancing in the ceremony itself, but there _are_ generally a few steps in the revelry afterwards to celebrate and wish good luck on the newly Paired.” Stiles can’t help but smile as he remembers another fear that he might hurt his Intended’s feet due to an unfamiliarity with dancing. He shakes himself out of the memory when he realizes that the siblings are staring at him with curiosity. “It is not required, however, and you may dance as much, or as little, as you like.”

“Would you like to dance at this celebration?” Derek asks warily, looking like Stiles has asked him to march into battle as bare as the day the Goddess created him and not take a few turns about the floor. “I know a few Courtly steps, it is just that I am not very good at them and I… I do not want to offend…”

“Trust me, there will be no offense if you misstep.” Stiles interjects quickly, wanting to go back to the ease that was there before Deaton had entered the hallway. “Especially not when most of the Court knows I have a vivid memory of days when they were too far into their cups and may have done or said things that they prefer to stay with the mists that greet them in the mornings.”

“And you, Emissary?” Is that a hint of a smile that Derek is trying to hide, head ducked but eyes a-glint in merriment? “Do you have any misdeeds brought about by indulging too much in sweet spirits that you’d prefer no one to know of?”

Stiles grins back, winking at Derek and delighting in the snort his words pull from Laura’s form.

“Ah, but that would spoil the fun of you finding out for yourself, oh future Pair of mine!”

Derek _does_ grin at that, his hand coming up to try to wipe it away and Stiles wants to tell him not to, that he wants to see every expression that Derek has to offer, but a sigh from Laura’s direction draws his attention before he can bring the first word from his lips.

“It seems you were right about everyone and their Guardian wanting to speak to one or the other of you. Mayhap I shall help in the endeavor to lock you away to yourselves for a time…”

At Stiles’ confused expression, she nods at the end of the corridor through the opened door, where Stiles can now see Sir Isaac heading their way, a determined look overcoming his features when he catches sight of Stiles.

“By Hellfire and the Daemon’s Pit! Will I know nothing of my Pair until my Pairing Night?” Stiles closes his eyes at the choked noise that Laura makes at his statement, realizing too late just how that sentence could be taken.

Not bothering to look at Derek and catch whatever expression might be on his face, Stiles instead turns his gaze to the man’s sister and intones, “Not one word!” before stomping off toward the King’s personal guard.

He’s not surprised he makes it barely five steps before there is a sudden burst of manic laughter behind him, echoed by the smirk hidden in his own lips.

Isaac, however, is completely confused by the whole thing and looks ready to whisk Stiles away at the slightest provocation, which cuts through the ease that had permeated the hallway like a blade through an unsuspecting man’s stomach.

**_Two steps forward, three steps back…_ **

Stiles sighs at Isaac’s tense stance, knowing without looking behind him that Derek and Laura were now echoing his ready form, whether they were conscious of it or not. Stiles is just tired of all of the fear that followed every interaction between one of the Court and a member of the Hale Pack.

(Except Deaton, of course, but that man was never one to show what he was feeling, so Stiles wasn’t sure if he could even include him in this assessment.)

Not wanting to deal with another fight this day, Stiles gives the Hale siblings a quick smile and says, “I will be in one of the meeting rooms if either of you, or even Alpha Talia, want to speak with me. King Scott will be in the Great Hall if you wish to speak to him, instead. If you permit me…” He takes Isaac’s arm and leads him back down the way he came.

He also waits until there are a few hallways and rooms in between him and the Hale siblings before tearing into Isaac for his behavior.

“I had hoped that after this morning you would take to heart the fact that these Lycans have hopes and feelings just like the rest of us. That they are not the monsters that the Court make them out to be.”

Isaac has the decency to flinch at Stiles’ words, but his response is just to glare and snap, “Forgive me for being worried about your safety, Emissary, seeing as when I came upon the three of you, it did not look like any of you were in the best of moods.”

“There is a difference between being concerned for someone’s mood and insinuating that the second party is the reason for the dourness.”

Isaac stops there, a frown upon his features as he seems to figure out what it is that he wants to say. He doesn’t manage to find the words before the door in front of him opens and Scott is beaming at the pair of them.

“Ah, you managed to find him, Isaac! Did he also manage to tell you the news as well?”

“No, I was speaking with Alpha Heirs Derek and Laura, so Sir Isaac was more than a little tense when he found me. I thought it might be prudent to remove him from their presence before they finally decide they had enough snubs and challenge someone to a duel of honor.”

Scott rubs at his brow when Isaac coolly informs them that he still needs to make preparations for their guests, before giving both of them a quick bow, turning sharply on his heel and leaving.

“Must you always fight with each other?”

“I would have less cause to fight with him if _he_ was less inclined to antagonize the people that we have invited into our land and extended a hand of friendship to.” Stiles steps into the room, but pauses before going any further than the doorway. “How can we expect them to hold to the treaty if all we show them is distrust and suspicion? If we treat them as the Beasts that the Court believes them to be?”

Scott ducks his head, no doubt remembering what Stiles’ father had told him just that morning, before giving him a quick nod and closing the door behind them. “I will speak to Isaac to make sure that he understands the stakes that are at play here.”

Sighing, Stiles claps a hand on Scott’s shoulder, giving a quick squeeze. “It’s not that I don’t believe that he understands the consequences or that he is trying to deliberately makes things difficult, it is just that I had hoped he would not be one of those that simply swallow what the rest of the Court say and believe it to be the Goddess’ own Gospel.”

“Well, I suppose I can be happy that there has been some sort of agreement between you and Alpha Heir Derek.” Scott’s face has taken upon an expression that Stiles is all too familiar with, making him groan and push at the shoulder of his Liege Lord. He continues, “seeing as you are ready to defend him and his entire family from the barest whisper of discord.”

“I thought you would be pleased to hear of how well that I am getting along with my future Pair,” Stiles sniffs, turning so that Scott can’t see how red his cheeks became at that comment. His King’s chortles tell him that his tactic fails miserably, but Stiles is very much one for ignoring something until it goes away. He continues, “Derek and I have come to an accordance, yes, one that I believe will be to the benefit of both of us, as well as our prospective kingdoms.”

Scott’s laughter tapers off then; He is brought back to the moment by the reminder that this whole thing is a bit different than a regular Pairing might have been. “I wish I could make this easier for you, that this whole farce wasn’t even needed in the first place.”

“You are hardly selling me into slave labor, Scott, and Derek is far from the Deamon’s Beast that the rest of the Court would like us to believe him to be.”

“Still, that display at breakfast-”

“-was brought about by his sister’s unthinking words and what was no doubt a lot of stress due to our upcoming Pairing.” Stiles turns to Scott, arms crossed in front of him as he faces down his King and readies himself to fight another argument to the ground on whether or not this Pairing is a good idea.

**_First my father, then Isaac, and now even Scott…! Am I to be the only one that wants to see this through?_ **

Perhaps not, if the soft way that Derek had looked at him only moments ago had been any indication…

Shaking his head, Stiles pulls his thoughts back to the matter at hand: namely, making sure he has at least _someone_ in his own kingdom on his side in all of this.

“You are only thinking of this from our side, Scott, but try to imagine how this must be from the Lycans’: there have been scuffles and attacks for years now-from _both_ sides-that have hurt and diminished their numbers, the land that they claimed as territory has been encroached upon and _stolen_ from them, and they have suffered slander and mistreatment every time they’ve even _crossed the city lines_! Now, those _very same people_ have finally offered the hand of friendship, have offered to bring an end to all the hate and war that has carried on for far too long, and even offer _one of their own_ as a sign of good faith. Only for what to happen? To be treated to whispers from the Court of how they were no more than **_dogs_** on _their very first morning here_!”

Stiles takes a breath at this point. All of the injustices that he has named seem so much worse now that he has spent time with Derek, seen how fiercely Laura and Cora defend their brother, no matter how ham-fisted Cora had been about it…

It might make him a horrible person because it took actually getting to know a Lycan to care about what happened to them, but Stiles was in this now, and he wanted the dissent to _stop_.

There is a moment of silence between them before Scott is nodding slowly, like a plan is taking root in his mind even as he speaks. “I think it might be better if Lord Argent is sent to his winter home, despite our earlier misgivings about having him so far from Court, as the coming snows might make it more difficult if he waits any longer. I am sure that you will send your condolences that he is to miss your Pairing, but he knows that his King needs him on our eastern front.”

“And who are Lord Argent and I, to go against our King?” Stiles smiles at Scott, knowing that Gerard is not the beginning and the end of their problems, but getting rid of him-even for a little while-is the first step to shaking his hold from the throat of the rest of the Court.

“There was another matter that I wanted to discuss with you, before we may turn our attentions to matters discussed this morning…” Scott starts leading them further into the room, and Stiles just notices that Allison has been sitting at the table at the middle of the room. She’s smiling that slightly exasperated grin she gets whenever she catches them getting so caught up in whatever they are debating or planning that they simply stop wherever they’re standing, regardless of whether it’s in the middle of a busy corridor or not.

“Your Majesty.” Stiles greets her with a kiss to the cheek when he and Scott finally make it to the table. He is grateful that she doesn’t look at all upset that they’re basically banishing her grandfather from Court, and seems to be more inclined to help them plan if the documents splayed in front of her are any indication. He focuses on that instead of the upcoming argument he knows will happen when he tells Scott that he can’t tell him what Derek said to him last night, despite what he said this morning. “And what is this other matter that is undoubtedly the reason that Sir Isaac first sought me out?”

Scott drops a kiss on Allison’s other cheek before taking a seat, accepting the cup of wine she hands him. “The Martins have sent us a missive saying that their daughter has fled from home again.”

Stiles pauses in pouring his own glass of wine, already slumped in his own chair across from their Majesties as a slow grin grows on his face. “Are you telling me that they are asking that we help them find their wayward daughter or that we are to finally see our dear Lady Lydia once more?”

“It seems that the last they saw her was heading towards our borders.” Scott’s own smile is hesitant, which confuses Stiles until Scott opens his mouth again. “Your relationship with her, with this upcoming Pairing-”

“Lydia and I have been bosom friends ever since I realized that the Goddess had not crafted us for each other, are you really suggesting that I avoid her when she arrives, undoubtedly drawn by news of my Pairing?”

There is an uneasiness in Scott that has him looking to Allison for help, but all his wife does is give him a look that says he’s on his own with this. “It’s just that… given how Alpha Heir Derek reacted to his sister’s allegations…”

“I thought we already agreed that those actions were due to circumstances and pressed nerves.” Stiles’ tone makes Scott flinch. Allison sighs beside her husband and reaches for another cup of wine. “However, I understand that you are only looking after my well-being, so I will speak to Derek before Lydia’s arrival and make sure he knows of our friendship.”

Scott nods eagerly at this, looking for all the world like an excited puppy that has just been promised a run in the woods. “That is all I ask, considering how many of the Court had been more than a little thrown by Lord Derek’s behavior and we want to avoid another misunderstanding that may cause a repeat of those events.”

“As my King commands.”

Looking pleased with himself, Scott turns to the documents spread across the table, missing the look shared between Allison and Stiles. He only turns around in time to catch Stiles filling up his wine cup once more.

“Now that Lady Lydia’s arrival and Alpha Heir Derek’s meeting with her has been taken care of, I was hoping I could get your opinion on this force that seems to be testing our borders to the West. If you take a look here…”

As Scott drones on over his head, Stiles sighs and focuses on the map, wishing that he was still walking down Beacon’s corridors with Derek, finding new ways to make the Lycan smile. He supposes he should be happy that there is much to distract Scott from his need to find out what exactly happened between his Emissary and the Alpha Heir, but the dullness makes it a small comfort.

Taking a sip of wine, Stiles sighs again and settles in for a long evening.

 

\----------------

\----------

\------

 

Laura watches as the Emissary practically drags the knight from the corridor with a frown twisting her lips. She waits until they are out of sight before muttering, “Well, we know who our allies are in this castle, at least.”

Derek makes a soft noise beside her as he also watches the Emissary stomping away, thoughtful at most and distracted at worst, causing Laura to bite down on the tease that wants to slip past her lips.

It was a good thing that Stiles and Derek were getting along, and she knows that any attempt at playfulness will have Derek slipping back into the shell that he thought they didn’t notice he had made after the Emissary’s first visit.

 ** _There will be plenty of time to tease later_** , Laura muses, guiding Derek back into their walk with a hand at his elbow. **_When they have been Paired for more than a few moments and the whispers quiet into nothing more than a dull hum. For now, though, there is something else that I must address…_**

“You do not have to take this Pairing, Derek, if you do not wish to.” The tensing of the muscle under her hand does not bode well for this conversation, but Laura has weathered Derek’s moods ever since he was small and, unlike her sister, she knows when to stop pressing. “I know that Mother has told you this, but I do not believe that you truly grasp this…”

“Laura, why are you pressing this? It has already been decided and the preparations are already underway; are you asking to make sure that I am not getting cold feet?” Derek chuckles a little, like the whole thing is one big joke, but Laura does not find anything funny about any of this.

“Even if the Pairing was taking place tomorrow, we would stop this if need be.” Taking a deep breath, Laura says the one thing that she knows will either cause Derek to open up or leave her behind like they did Cora: “Our sister was not the only one in that hallway, Derek, and she is not the only one that heard what you said… Do you really think that your thoughts on this hold no sway?”

Derek stops at that, a tick in his jaw as his gaze drops to the stones under their feet. Laura waits for what feels like an age before he opens his mouth to speak. It is almost too soft for even her hearing, and it’s said like he is afraid that someone will come along and condemn him for every word that falls from his lips.

“It is not that I do not think my thoughts hold sway, it is more that I do not believe that they _should_ hold any weight. My… dalliance with Lady Katherine almost destroyed us after her death and I learned too late that even showing her my affections was treacherous, so I have decided that whatever Mother and the rest of the Pack agree on-whether it comes to this Pairing or any political workings we may indulge in-I will defer to.”

Laura isn’t sure if she wants to hug her brother or shake him. Derek’s words make her feel like she has failed him in some way, and it hurts that he believes that his failings in his courtship of Katherine Argent is something that he needs to apologize for. But something tells her that he won’t listen if she tries to tell him that his guilt is misplaced.

So, instead, she pulls him into an embrace that startles him for a moment, but then Derek’s arms come around her as he sinks into her with a sigh.

“I just want you to be happy, Der, not stuck in something that will kill you as effectively as an Alpha’s claws… only much more slowly.”

“It’s not like that Laura,” Derek denies, shaking his head in the negative but making no move to pull away. “I don’t believe that Stiles- I mean, E-emissary Stilinski-“

“Oh, he’s _Stiles_ now, is he?” Alright, so she isn’t above a little teasing; Derek was always so easy to pester, she can’t help it!

“I- I just thought that, since he is becoming my Pair, it would do to practice a bit of familiarity-”

“I could see how _familiar_ that boy wanted to be with you…”

“Oh, you know what I meant!” Derek grumbles, a blush high on his cheeks as he begins pinching her sides and making her squirm in his grip. “It just seems like the Emissary is a good man, and that he seems to at least want me to be comfortable in all of this.”

 ** _But you deserve so much more than ‘ comfortable’, Derek! _**Laura doesn’t give voice to the thought as she gently extracts herself from the embrace, again knowing that Derek will either not believe her or simply brush her off as being patronizing. Instead she simply says, “Yes, I could see that _he_ at least wanted to make this whole thing to work.”

“Yes,” Derek agrees softly, a small smile on his face that gives Laura hope that this Pairing won’t end in a complete disaster. “I believe I shall be content with him.”

Laura keeps herself from commenting on whether or not Derek deserve more than mere ‘contentment’ and simply starts the journey back to their rooms. Her thoughts are on perhaps finding a way to get the Emissary alone for a talk about how he treats her brother’s fragile heart.

It does not take long after that to find their rooms and Derek is almost immediately pulled aside by their mother to be wrapped up in another hug

“I heard your distress earlier this morn, my cub, are you alright?”

Instead of comforting, like she no doubt wanted, Talia’s words seem to make the ease slip from Derek’s shoulders. Laura catches Cora’s flinch from the corner of her eye.

“I’m fine, mother, I just… had a lot on my mind and let it get to me, that’s all.” It’s a little upsetting to see how easily Derek can shrug off their mother’s arms before he takes a quick glance around the room. “Where is Uncle Peter? I don’t see him here…”

A short sigh leaves their mother’s lips as she also takes a quick look around the room, showing that their Uncle’s disappearance is something that slipped her attention as well. “He was just here a moment ago... Give me a few minutes, my children, I will go make sure that he isn’t out stirring up trouble.”

With a nod to each of them, Talia makes her way out of the room. The door closes behind her, encasing the lot of them in a deafening silence.

This time it is Laura who is the one sighing, as she watches Derek fold himself into one of the chairs in a corner, picking up a book to hide in. Cora focuses with a single-minded intensity on the scroll in her hands.

Laura can only take about so much of this before she’s pulling out a game and demanding that both of her siblings play with her, or suffer the consequences.

Both Cora and Derek blink at her like they have no idea what she’s going on about, but after a few moments of studiously not meeting the other’s gaze, they finally set down their individual pursuits and join Laura at the table she claimed.

They’re still there when their mother and Peter walk back into the room hours later, their own argument forgotten in the wake of Derek’s demand that Cora be excluded from the game for cheating.

“It’s not cheating if I know what you’re going to do, Der,” is Cora’s smug reply, which earns her a growl from her brother and makes Laura fight to keep from giggling at the disgruntled look on his face. “That’s called ‘using your enemy’s weakness against them’. No wonder you’re not the diplomat of the family!”

Derek huffs at the comment, but Laura can see the way that his shoulders have tensed at the reminder of his failings and she is just about to loudly declare a rematch when Peter decides to chime in, alerting the lot of them to his presence.

“Well, we all know that Derek has his other uses, don’t we?” Laura glares as Peter continues, his eyes focused on the way that Derek has started to fold in on himself. “Plenty of brawn, even if he has little brains, and our dear Emissary seems to think he’s nice to look at, at least-”

“Peter, that is enough!” Talia snaps, but it is far too late; Derek is already getting up from the table and stomping over to his room, the friendly competition disappearing as harshly as the slam the door makes.

There is a trio of growls that fill the room, but Peter just looks at them all blankly and asks, “Did I say something wrong?”

“Why are you so determined to hurt Derek like this?” Laura bursts out, unable to figure out a reason for Peter’s maliciousness. Yes, he had never been one to sugarcoat a situation, but he also had never been outright cruel like this before. As a matter of fact, this only started happening when- “Does this have anything to do with Derek’s courtship of Lady Katherine?”

Cora makes an angry noise at that, having never liked the late Lady Argent, but Laura is more focused on the look exchanged between her mother and uncle, confirming her suspicions even before Peter opens his mouth.

“Derek’s… dalliance had the same consequences that any Other does when attempting to Pair with a Hunter.” Peter waves a hand in the air, almost as if shooing away a troublesome fly, and Laura can feel her hackles raising even before he finishes speaking. “I am aware I can be petty, but Derek knows the danger of being involved with their kind and he needs to be reminded-”

“No.”

It is not Laura that interrupts this time, but Cora, who is looking at Peter like she’d like nothing more than to dig her claws in his face and _tear_. “If this was simply a reprimand, you would have shunned Derek for maybe a summer. You act like he betrayed us all to Hunters instead of just-”

“He _did_ betray us all!” Peter snaps, his eyes flaring a sickly yellow at Cora, something that seems to only infuriate her further as she flashes her own sapphires back at him.

“ ** _PETER_**! You will say no more on the subject!” It’s the first time in a long while that Laura has ever seen her mother so ruffled, and she’s torn between demanding to know what is being kept from them or giving into the tremor she can hear in Talia’s voice.

In the end, the decision is taking away from her as Peter gives Talia a slow, smug grin as he purrs, “Oh? Don’t you think the girls deserve to know what their brother did? That his inability to see the snake in his arms almost led to the destruction of our entire Pa-?”

Talia cuts off Peter’s words with a roar and suddenly he is being pinned against the far wall with her clawed hands around his throat, a sudden slamming alerting Laura that Derek had returned to their communal area with his own Beta form covering his features.

Upon seeing the tableau that his mother and Uncle make, Derek almost immediately loses his shift as he stutters, “W-what’s going on? Uncle Peter? …Mom?”

Not hearing or not bothering to placate Derek at the moment, Talia presses Peter against the wall until he lets out a pained whine and drops his eyes to the floor. Talia quietly states, “You seem to have forgotten who is Alpha of this Pack, Peter Hale, and whose word you should obey when she gives a direct command to _stop talking_.”

Peter lets out another whine and Laura can see blood dripping from where her mother’s claws are digging into her Uncle’s skin. Part of her wants to cry out for her mother to stop, but then she remembers all the times that Peter had gone after Derek.  Her brother looking like Peter was digging a wolfsbane dagger into his gut deeper and deeper _every time_ , so she bites her tongue.

Derek is now in a whispered argument with Cora as he tries to find out what happened, but Laura’s entire attention is on her mother as she leans forward to whisper in Peter’s ear.

_*I have told you more than once to leave Derek’s mistake in the past where it belongs, because that is all it was: a **mistake**. It was **you** who endangered us with your impulsive reaction and it is **only** because you are my brother that I do not throw you to the Argents and let them have their vengeance.*_

Peter falls to the floor when Talia suddenly releases him, his hands immediately going to his neck and shoulder. Talia’s Alpha status causes the wounds to heal slower than normal, even the smaller scratches from her nails still dripping steadily.

“You will stay to your rooms for the rest of the duration that we are here in Beacon, excluding Derek’s Pairing and the ceremony that will follow. You will not speak to any of the servants that bring you food, nor will you ask for any means of communicating with anyone outside or inside these walls.” Her mother’s voice resounds with the command of an Alpha and, even though she is completely focused on Peter, Laura feels like baring throat to the woman in front of her.

“When we return to the Den, you will be confined to your rooms and will only be released at my discretion.” Talia steps back, picking up a cloth from a nearby table to wipe her hands clean, spending a few moments to make sure she’s caught the blood under her nails. “You will learn, Peter, that you only breathe and speak by my mercy. Now, get out of my sight.”

For once knowing that it would be better to not make some sort of smart comment, Peter pulls himself to his feet and makes his unsteady way out of the room, glaring at Derek when he goes to offer him a hand.

Derek pulls his hands back, his head bowed and shoulders slumped, as he moves away from his Uncle and gingerly sits down near his mother. The only sound in the room is Peter’s rasping breaths as he leaves it.

“What in the Goddess’ Name just happened?” Cora looks from the trail of blood leading away from the room to their mother, who is working on one particularly difficult pinky nail. “What does Peter know and what does it have to do with Derek? Or Lady Katherine?”

Derek flinches as their mother spins to pin Cora with a glare, but it loses some of its ferocity at Derek’s timid, “Mother?”

Talia sighs and runs a hand through Derek’s hair as she flatly states, “This had nothing to Derek and everything to do with Peter’s own feelings about the Argent family. Derek’s courtship with the late Lady Argent was just an easy wound for him to poke at and I have grown tired with warning him of the consequences of pushing the issue. He has been punished for it and the matter is closed now, so why don’t the three of you go back to your game and forget the rest of this happened?”

The last bit of her statement had a bit of Alpha in it, so they knew it was really more of a command then a request. But Laura also knew her siblings-knew _Derek_ , especially-and knew that they would either try to figure out what was being kept from them or feel guilty about whatever just happened.

Nonetheless, Laura gets the board and pieces that have been knocked over during the confrontation and sets things up again. Derek is pulled into a hug by their mother, and Cora watches them like she can get them to admit to their secrets by sheer force of will.

Neither of them pay her any mind, and in the end, Cora just huffs out a frustrated breath before joining Laura at the table, snatching the figurine that Derek had claimed the first time that they played.

Shaking her head at the display, Laura’s own gaze drifts over to her brother and mother. Talia whispers something into Derek’s hair too low for Laura to hear. Not that she really wants to anyway. It makes her uneasy that there is something their mother is keeping from them, something that even Derek seems unaware of, but she also trusts Talia to know when the right time to let them in on that secret is, so she just sighs and calls out for Derek to join them before they grow old.

Chuckling at Laura’s attempt at humor, Talia gently nudges Derek towards his sisters before stating, “I need to let their Majesties know about the changes in Peter’s lodging and meals for the rest of our stay, and tell them to keep an eye out for any of his… mischievousness.”

The three of them murmur an acknowledgement as their mother leaves. The only sounds after that are a brief scuffle when Derek realizes that Cora snatched the figurine he had always dubbed as ‘his’.

While it never gets back to the easy bickering that they had earlier, the quiet and company makes it so Laura eventually relaxes enough to start teasing her siblings over squabbling over a figurine and whether or not one of them is cheating or not.

It gives her time to think over what happened without delving too deep into it; while she believes that it would be best to wait until her mother decides to tell her the truth, part of Laura can’t help but wonder what it is that might have made her mother react so strongly… As a matter of fact, the only other time she has seen her Alpha react like that was when-

Laura’s sudden epiphany causes her to topple a few of the pieces, making both of her siblings fuss at her as she distractedly picks them back up. She just barely keeps them from questioning her further.

Peter’s constant digs at Derek’s inability to keep a Pair, her mother’s constant attempts to keep him from bringing up any mention of the late Lady Argent and, most damning of all, Peter’s comment tonight about a betrayal…

Add all of that with a night three summers ago, a night that Peter came back to the Den all bloodied and bruised, a night that sent them _literally_ running for-as unaware as she had been at the time-their lives and Laura can only sit in silence as she keeps an iron control on her emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was betaed by the [awesomely talented Bri!](hostileblackwriter.tumblr.com) I Love You!! 
> 
>  [My tumblr is here if you wanna scream about these boys with me!!](welshwoman1988.tumblr.com)


	9. A Rehearsal

It seems like after everything that has happened, Talia decides that it would be better for the family to take their midday meal in their rooms once she returns from speaking with the King. When they next dine with the Court, there are more than a few questions as to their absence, and if there is to be any more avoidance in the future. Talia responds to the questions of their nonattendance and the upcoming absence of Peter, due to his confinement to his rooms, with a grace that completely belies the ferocity of her punishment from the night before.

It’s a little unsettling to see the woman that raised him with such love and care treat others so coldly, though Derek knows they would mistake her warmth for weakness…

Nevertheless, there is something that distracts Derek during her speech to the Court; he cannot help but feel like he is being stared at when she explains Peter’s new living arrangements, and it makes him scan the Court to see if he can somehow spot the culprit.

It turns out that he _is_ being stared at, but only by the Emissary instead of some ill-minded Lord or Lady like he had feared. Derek can only meet his gaze for a few moments before he must duck his head as a heat creeps up his face. He makes his excuses before the rest of his family has even finished eating.

Still, it does not stop Laura from making a comment later that evening about the worry that a certain member of the Court had felt at his abrupt departure, as well as that same member offering a mix of herbs that always settled his stomach, if that had been what ailed the Alpha Heir.

Derek pushes Laura’s smug face away from his, ignoring the squawk that follows as she topples from the chair that she was sitting on even as he feels a small glow of pleasure at the apparent care he seems to have garnered…

That warmth helps the next morning, as breakfast is a slightly… somber affair. Throughout the entire meal, Derek feels like he’s only a moment away from fully shifting and curling up under the table to hide.

It’s not St--Emissary Stilinski--or his father, nor is it King Scott or Queen Allison that set his teeth on edge; no, they are warmer than ever to his family. His mother and Lord Johnathan seem to get along as thick as thieves, which both worries and delights Derek in equal measures.

No, it is Lord Gerard Argent and the way that he spends the entire meal staring at Derek’s family like he can harness the Daemon’s Power to leave them nothing but a pile of ash.

Apparently, sometime after the conversation Derek had with St-- _Emissary Stilinski_ and the confrontation between his mother and Peter, the King had been made aware of the encroachment upon their territories to the East. He decided that the man that clamored most loudly about keeping the Kingdom safe would be the best person to send to the front.

“I am most pleased by the trust in me you show.” Lord Argent states, looking completely at odds with what his words claim, his knife methodically cutting into the meat on his plate as his gaze never wavers from the King’s face. “A lesser man would be concerned that whomever they sent might join forces with these usurpers.”

“Which is no doubt why our good King chose you!” Stiles interjects with a smile, his own tone at odds with the way he glares at the Argent patriarch. He leans forward with the air of a predator about to pounce on prey. “Surely the grandfather of our own Queen would never be so low as to join forces with someone who would wish his kin harm!”

Even without his enhanced senses, Derek was sure that he could hear the cutlery in Gerard’s hands creaking under the grip he has upon them. A few of the Ladies sitting next to the Lord look over in concern. “You cannot be suggesting that my King would use my granddaughter against me? He would not be so devious as to use a cutthroat’s warning to send me to war?”

“My, the leaps that your mind takes, Lord Gerard!” Stiles laughs. He picks up a pitcher and pours himself a cup of wine, his own gaze keeping Gerard’s in a steely glare, yet he does not spill a drop of the drink. “I was merely making note of the fact that a man would do almost _anything_ to protect whom he holds dear! Why, I am sure it is only the political obligations that bind our dear King that keep him from the battlefield _himself_! Really, I am starting to think it might be better for you to summer in the Argent lands if you are so suspicious you are throwing around such baseless accusations! It seems like you are in need of some rest and recuperation!”

Wincing at the sound of Gerard’s teeth grinding together, Derek’s mood nonetheless is greatly improving at watching St- Emissary- oh, he gives up already- _Stiles_ verbally run circles around someone that would gladly skin him and his kin, no matter what kind of faces they wore.

Stiles seems to catch one of Derek’s admiring glances, because he pauses just long enough in his list of ways that the open air and country living will return years to Gerard’s aged form to give Derek a wink that causes a blush to grow on his cheeks. Derek’s eyes drop to his plate in embarrassment.

The laughter that follows doesn’t feel like it is aimed at Derek, which is a small mercy, because he can hear Laura giggling at the other end of the table, and _that_ laughter _is_ at his awkwardness.

_*Aw, are the Emissary’s flirtations too much for you, Der-bear?*_

_*Be nice to your brother, Laura, he is allowed to be pleased at the attention he gathers.*_

_*Oh, the Emissary wants to give him much more than simple **attention** , Mother_!*

Choking on the sip of wine he takes, Derek is mortified to see almost the entire table staring at him, Stiles brows furrowed into an expression of concern as he starts to move forward.

“Are you alright, Alpha He-”

“I’m fine.” His voice is short due to both his airway still being sore and from the embarrassment he can feel staining his cheeks. He tries softening his tone when he catches a whiff of upset from Stiles’ direction, the frown twisting his features giving further credence to his mood. “Apologies, a bit of wine simply went down the wrong way.”

The upset dims, but there is still an over note of concern as Stiles leans closer and asks, “Are you _sure_ that you are well, Alpha Heir? You left dinner early last night and now are choking on light spirits! Healer Deaton is well versed in-”

“I appreciate the concern for my health, but I insist that I am fine.” Derek’s voice comes out in a grind of teeth, not really helping his case all that much, but his family’s laughter is getting so noticeable that even members of the Court are looking at them oddly.

Stiles’ gaze darts from Derek to his chortling family members, and an expression of understanding overtakes his features even as he pushes himself from the table, coming over to Derek’s side and offering his arm.

“Well, ill or not, I do believe that we were asked to see Deaton regarding our upcoming nuptials, were we not? If you would be so kind as to permit me…?”

Derek blinks before he realizes what Stiles is asking and it’s with an embarrassed cough that he straightens from his seat to take the other man’s arm and respond with the Court approved, “I would be honored to join you, Emissary.”

Stiles gives him a quick wink that has Derek fighting off a smile as the Emissary asks for the rest of the Court to excuse them, even managing to throw another barb about Gerard’s failing health and the joy he will no doubt find in his ancestral home in before turning to lead Derek out of the Great Hall.

They barely make it down two hallways before Stiles is suddenly giggling like a child that has just escaped from a particularly stern chaperone. Derek is swept up in his joy as he asks, “What is so funny, my Lord?”

Getting the last of his laughter out of the way with a shake of his head, Stiles smiles and states, “Merely the look on Gerard’s face when he realized that the only way to keep from being stuck in a dusty old mansion for the foreseeable future was to outright defy his King. The old codger looked like he had swallowed a whole jug of rancid wine!”

Stiles continues to chuckle at the image, but something Gerard had said still eats at Derek’s thoughts. He thinks it would be a good idea to share it with Stiles now, as he seems to be in a good mood and probably won’t immediately dismiss it out of hand.

“You do not think that Gerard will do as he threatened?” Derek swallows as Stiles tilts his head in question. A sudden image of that same face pale and bloody in the rictus of death makes him clarify, “Joining the dissenters at the border, I mean…”

“No.” Stiles response is immediate and sure. A short shake of his head accompanies it as they walk down another hallway and make their way out to the courtyard. Derek breathes a bit easier in the open air. “While Gerard may try to stir up trouble and unrest, I sincerely doubt that he would do something so vile as raise a hand to his own kin.”

Derek hums in thought, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Stiles’ statement. His own views on the man are that Gerard Argent is a conniving snake that would lead his entire line to ruin just to be rid of what he liked to call ‘the Beastly Others’.

Shaking away thoughts of Gerard and others of his ilk, Derek makes an effort to pay attention to the chapel they enter. While most Lycan ceremonies are done under the moon and the watchful gaze of the Goddess, it seems that Stiles’ people do thing in closed buildings with a statue of the Goddess standing in for the moon’s bright gaze.

The chapel itself seemed to be crammed as full as it _can_ be, with benches lining all along the walls, leaving only a narrow aisle up the middle. Every space not filled with somewhere to sit, excluding the aisle, is instead filled with candles and lanterns. Derek looks to the statue at the head of the chapel in an effort to calm the rising sense of unease that has settled in his stomach at the physical evidence of their upcoming nuptials.

It _is_ a beautiful effigy, though; the Goddess is looking down on the congregation with a peaceful expression over soft features. One hand is outstretched in welcome and support while the other rests lightly on a blade at her side. She is surrounded by soft candlelight that throws gentle shadows across Her chest and seamlessly illuminates the fullness of Her face. The statue gives the impression of both welcome and warning, compassion and caution, so it is strange that Derek is suddenly overcome with the feeling that the walls are closing in on him.

Perhaps it is from the fact that they have moved from one stone building to another and Derek, who has run freely amid the forest and valleys all his life, can’t help but feel stifled by it. Do these people have no connection with the earth under their feet? Yes, his family have the Den, but that is more for meetings and for when the weather is poor enough to need a roof over their heads to keep out the wind and cold…

Also, why is he feeling like this _now_ , and not after spending most of his time at Beacon behind stone walls? Is it because that statue and this building all signify the vows that will bind him in a few days’ time, conscripting him forever to those same walls?

It seems his companion has noticed the tenseness that has settled over Derek’s shoulders, for Stiles is suddenly leaning in, an attention-grabbing line of heat all along Derek’s side. He whispers, “Is there something wrong? Is it the incense? I am sure that Deaton can-”

“No, I am fine. I was just taking in your monuments.” Derek uses the excuse of taking a closer look at the image of the Goddess to pull away from Stiles’ closeness, unsure what to do with the heat that had slipped down his spine at the first breath of Stiles’ words.

He had been foolish because of heat like that before, but Derek has _sworn_ not to do anything that will break this treaty, and that includes making an overture for something that is _not_ there.

There is a moment where is seems like Stiles will call his claim into question, but then the other man is shaking his head and following in Derek’s footsteps, thankfully keeping his distance as he beings to speak.

“This statue has resided in this chapel ever since I was a small child. It was supposed to be a wedding present for King Rafael and Queen Melissa from our allies in the South, the Whittemores, I think? They said the Goddess would look over the marriage and bring good tidings upon the couple.”

The last bit is said with utter disdain. The story of King Rafael’s love of drink, as well as his banishment from the kingdom by the Queen, is well known, but Derek still asks, “I take it you do not believe in such things?”

“Oh, I believe in the intentions behind such an act,” is Stiles’ dismissive reply, a wave of his hands giving his words an added emphasis. “It is just that I do not believe that marble and stone can tell you a good marriage from a bad one, or that certain herbs and sticks will make you more inclined to follow vows made in the presence of your loved ones. _You_ are in control of your own actions and, while the Goddess may guide you, it is _your_ own will that shows what kind of man you are.”

Stiles exhales harshly at the end of his passionate speech, and seems to realize that Derek has spent the last few moments staring at him in shock, unable to breathe past the lump in his throat or move past the leaden feeling in his legs. He wants to howl at the moon that his Pair is loyal and honorable, that he speaks his mind with the ferocity of one of Derek’s own kind, that Derek has found someone that will walk beside him and be the shield at his flank…

...but before he can do any of that, a deep rumbling voice cuts across his thoughts and makes both of them startle so hard that Stiles nearly topples over a random candelabra.

“I am pleased to see you speak so about honoring the vows that you will take before the Goddess, Lord Stilinski. It will make this evening much easier when all is said and done.”

Healer Deaton makes his way out of a doorway that Derek somehow missed upon entering the chapel, making the hairs on the back on his neck bristle and his lips almost unconsciously pull back into a snarl. He remembers that this is the man that will be officiating the Pairing Ceremony in a few days’ time, so it would not do to insult or aggravate him.

Stiles, on the other hand, wastes no time in letting the man know that his entrance was unneeded.

“I swear by the entire Holy Host that one of these days I will put a bell on you to make sure that I lose no more years off my life!” Grasping at his chest, Stiles levels a glare worthy of a basilisk at the Healer as he continues, “I don’t know if you simply enjoy startling me or sold your soul to the Daemon for silence in your steps, but I demand that you do so no more!!”

Deaton’s only response to Stiles’ tirade is a small smile. He turns to Derek with the exact same expression as he asks, “And how has your stay at Beacon been so far, Alpha Heir?”

Derek is slightly distracted by the rather imaginative curses that Stiles is muttering against the Healer under his breath, so it takes Deaton asking the question again before he can answer.

“I have no complaints, Healer Deaton. Other than a comment or two on my lineage by a few unsavory Court members, I have been welcomed most warmly.”

“Ah.” Deaton sighs and makes his way toward the pulpit as he asks, “Lord Gerard is still not pleased with our new visitors?”

Stiles snorts before Derek can even bring himself to answer, something that causes Deaton to chuckle even before Stiles begins another tirade. “No, the bastard slandered our guests at yesterday’s breakfast. The King decided that if the good Lord was in such a foul mood, then perhaps it might be best if he took that foulness to defend our eastern border before spending the rest of the summer in his manor in the hopes that he will return in better spirits.”

The last bit is said with an air of smugness that has Derek wondering if perhaps it was not the King who decided this, but his Emissary…

The look on Deaton’s face says that he suspects the same thing, but the man simply nods and states, “I do hope that the next time we see the elder Lord Argent, he is in a far better mood.”

Both Stiles and Derek scoff at that. Stiles grins at Derek in a way that has him dipping his head to hide his own smile.

Deaton nods at them when he notices their expressions.

“Well, shall we begin, then?”

Derek looks to Stiles, who tilts his head in a gesture that could either be read as acceptance or resignation. He makes his way to the Healer with a sigh that has Derek wondering if he should say something about all of this, offer some words of comfort to the man that has tried so hard to make him feel at home here.

But what _can_ he say, when he is part of the chains that bind the Emissary? Binding him to Derek for the rest of his days, a man that he barely knows and does not love…

In the end, Derek does nothing except follow Stiles to stand in front of the Healer, hoping that he can at least make these coming days go as smoothly as possible.

 

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The rehearsal… isn’t as easy as Stiles originally thought, and the reason is really something that he should have foreseen:

He, and Deaton, it seemed, were under the impression that Lycan Pairings were the same as the ones they practiced in Beacon. This notion had thrown Stiles when it first became apparent that there was more to their Lycan brethren than what they originally believed.

Firstly, Derek is under the impression that they would begin the ceremony side-by-side in front of Deaton, and he frowns when Stiles informs him that one of them is traditionally expected to be led up the aisle.

“Why?”

“It is meant to show that a Pair is being brought together before the Goddess and will leave behind all they were before to start their new life together.” Derek frowns at this part and Stiles is quick to explain, “That is not to say that we expect you to give up everything that would make you Lycan. It is more of a symbol that you are willing to accept becoming a member of Beacon’s Court as well.”

“Then should we not be standing before the Goddess together? To show that we are to be a unit in our Pairing, no matter where either one of us come from, or that we are from different People?”

Fighting off the pang that the words ‘a unit in our Pairing’ gives him, Stiles tries to explain. “It is believed that if we stand together to begin with, we are saying we do not need the Goddess’ Blessing for our union to be fruitful, that we are above such things… I know that it sounds ridiculous and superstitious, but it is the way things have been done for thousands of years and the way the Court _expects_ this Pairing to go as well.”

There is still a frown on Derek’s face after this explanation, and it looks like he wants to argue more, but in the end, he simply nods before making his way to the entrance of the chapel. Stiles only waits until he is a few steps away before laying into Deaton for blindsiding him so.

“I thought you asked Alpha Talia if there were certain ceremonies we needed to impart in this Pairing!”

Deaton raises a brow at him, and sends a quick look over to where Derek is standing in a silent warning of the man overhearing, but Stiles is uncaring at this moment if his future Pair can hear his ire or not.

The Healer sighs when he notices this. “I _did_ ask if there was a certain ritual that the Lycans perform when Pairing, but perhaps I should have mentioned how we undertake our own ceremonies before questioning them about theirs. They have as much knowledge about us as we do of them, so perhaps the Alpha too thought that our Pairings were no different than their own, and did not think to elaborate on their traditions.”

Stiles hears the way that Deaton’s voice trails off into a thoughtful hum and he rubs at his head in frustration as he looks at the stiff way Derek is waiting for them to give him some clue on how things are supposed to proceed. While Stiles can accept the misunderstanding in all of this, there is still a part of him that wants to beat Deaton about the head for not questioning further when the man is usually almost _obsessive_ in his need to know things.

Whether Deaton himself decides to share what it is he knows, however, is a different story altogether…

Pushing the moment to the side for now, Stiles musters up a smile for the man on the other side of the room and says, “You can come back now. In the ceremony, you will be ushered in by a melody that is meant to convey the hope for the Pairing in the future. Do Lycans have anything like that in their own Pairings?”

“I don’t believe so.” Derek’s bearing gets even tenser the closer he comes to where Stiles and Deaton are standing. He looks like he is about to go to war rather than practice his Pairing ceremony. “I had a great-uncle who once wrote a rather racy poem for the woman he was Courting. He sang it in a pub when he was too far into his cups to realize that it might not be the best place to do so. In any case, I do believe that I have never heard of any songs we may have during Pairings.”

Derek pauses when he finally makes it next to Stiles once more. His hands twitch as if he were about to reach out or make some movement, before he clenches them at his sides and asks, “What now?”

In an effort to both calm Derek and perhaps to ease his own sense of impending doom, Stiles reaches out and clasps Derek’s hands between his own. “Now, Deaton will no doubt bring the congregation to attention by telling us all the story of the Goddess and Her Blessings that first brought Beacon into being.”

There is a moment when it feels like Derek is going to pull away from Stiles’ hold, but then he stops and almost tentatively starts to caress the back of Stiles’ hand with his thumb. “And what are Beacon’s thoughts on how my people came to be in that tale?”

“Why don’t you tell us the story your people tell, Alpha Heir?” Stiles is quick to interject, almost before Deaton has a chance to open his mouth. He is interested in both the tone of Derek’s question and the need to keep from being undone by a mere caress. “I have never heard this particular tale from anyone that did not grow up in Beacon before…”

The experience of being studied is one that Stiles has grown quite used to, but this is the first time that it hasn’t been followed by a roll of the eyes, or the feeling that the person looking at him has decided he isn’t worth the effort. On the contrary, Derek smiles a bit; his head is ducked in a way that has Stiles wanting to lift his chin so he can see those river-stone eyes sparkle, but Derek begins to speak before he can give into the urge.

“I should warn you that I am no storyteller, but I shall do my best.”

So saying, Derek lifts his head, pushes his shoulders back, and focuses on a spot just to the right of Stiles’ face. It would be disheartening if Stiles was not intimately familiar with the discomfort of trying to keep eye contact with someone for an extended period of time.

That, and the fact that Derek seems to have forgotten that he is _still_ holding Stiles’ hand and is _still_ gently drawing his thumb across it.

“In the birth of our world, there was nothing but Darkness. A Darkness that covered everything and nothing, all-consuming and without end. It was from this Darkness that the Goddess was born, bright and beautiful as the morning sun, and from Her that Beacon was Crafted.”

Derek’s voice is little more than a murmur when he starts, but as he gets into the story, it grows stronger until Stiles is utterly captivated and barely breathes for fear of interrupting.

“Her hands drew soil from the Nothingness and Crafted a great land for Man to walk upon, seas for Man to swim and fish in, and great mountains for Man to climb and build his homes on. She Crafted Beasts for Man to hunt and skies for Man to breathe, She Crafted All and filled the land with Her Creations until they spilled into the seas and made them their homes as well.

It was during this Creation that a Great Deamon was born. It is not known if He was born from Man or from Beast, but He was angry and jealous of the Love that the Goddess gave to Her Creations. He sought to destroy them all and keep Her Love only for Himself, twisting it into something selfish and greedy.”

Shifting his feet and drawing himself up higher, Derek seems particularly interested in this part of the story, and Stiles realizes with a start that this isn’t just a fanciful tale to him. This is part of Derek’s legacy, and Stiles makes sure to give it the proper attention. Beacon’s own Story of Beginning seeming duller and duller the more Derek speaks.

"Upon hearing of this Deamon, The Goddess, in Her Eternal Wisdom and Care, knew that Her Creations would need to be looked after. While she was Mighty and Great, she was not a harsh Mother; She wanted Her Children to live their own lives, merely guided by Her Hand, so She Called for Helpers, for Caretakers and Champions to help her protect Her Creations that She Loved.

Many came to Her Call, Beasts and Man alike, and the Goddess could see how they yearned to serve Her, yearned to make themselves worthy of being called the Goddess’ Chosen. Yet, she did not want to Choose between them and make another like the Deamon come into being.

And so the Blessed were born.”

Derek looks at Stiles now. There is a light in his eyes that speaks of his pride in his background, his joy at the Holy Beginning of his bloodline, and Stiles can only stare as Derek’s voice once more drops into a mere whisper, but there is a much more intimate tone to it now.

“There were the Blessed that flew through the skies, to watch over all Creations, the Blessed that slithered on the soil, to keep Man from stumbling, the Blessed that fell to the Deamon, their only goal to twist Man’s mind and turn him away from the Goddess’ Light and then there are the Blessed…” Derek finally looks down at their hands. His claws come out to scrape against Stiles’ palm, making him reflectively twitch his fingers against Derek’s hand, a soft noise slipping past his throat.

“There are the Blessed that wander through the forests, keeping Man safe from harm, joining Man by their fires, providing shield and strength on the Longest Nights, and love and laughter on the Warmest Days.”

There is a ringing silence after Derek has finished his story and Stiles can do nothing but breathe heavily, drawn in by the look in Derek’s eyes, the defiance and delight that simmers there like a banked fire. Stiles wonders if he is meant to be comforted by that warmth or burnt by it.

“A most interesting tale, Alpha Heir.”

Deaton’s voice, while no louder than what Derek’s had been when he had finished his tale, still makes Stiles startle as he realizes that the man is still there and he is now looking between the two of them in a way that makes the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck stand on end.

“I must say that your tale varies quite a bit from our own and it will be an interesting addition to your Pairing…” A smile quirks at Deaton’s lips, and Stiles cannot help but think that Deaton’s attention is probably centered on the difference between what Beacon calls Derek and his kind, and the name the Lycan had told them. “It will be a sight to see when the Court is shown this change…”

“It does not need to be added, Healer Deaton,” Derek mumbles, finally pulling his hands away from Stiles, leaving a sudden coldness in their wake. “I am sure whatever tale your people tell will be more than enough for this.”

“If you are su-“

“I am.”

Deaton blinks at that, but gives in with a simple nod of his head, beginning the rather dry and impartial ceremony that will soon bind Stiles and Derek together in the eyes of the Goddess until the end of their days.

Stiles tries to remember the vows that he is meant to say when the time comes, but all he can focus on is the fact that the warmth and ease that had been prevalent when Derek had been telling his tale is gone now. It has been replaced by a cold and indifferent countenance that offers no more insight to the man beside him than a wall would if asked.

The rehearsal goes by with only one or two more stalls, moments where Derek makes to reach for Stiles or shifts as if he expects them to face a certain way, but he quickly halts whatever it was that he was going to do and follows the steps that Deaton directs him through.

It hurts to watch, because it makes Derek seem so much more the puppet than anything else has, and part of Stiles wants to cry out for them to halt this farce, to find some other way for this alliance to hold true.

Yet, there are no other options, no miracle to keep this from happening, and with every passing day, Stiles can feel the nooses around both Derek and his neck tightening.

“Lord Stilinski?”

Stiles shakes his head when he realizes that his thoughts have distracted him from the proceedings. He turns his attention back to the present, where both Deaton and Derek are staring at him in curiosity.

“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. What did you say?”

Deaton hums in understanding, having had to rouse Stiles from his mental wanderings more than once. Derek, on the other hand, has no such familiarity, and just looks even more concerned. “Healer Deaton just informed us that the practice is done for the day and that it would be in our best interests to come back tomorrow to finish, but it is not a requirement.”

Nodding, Stiles once more offers Derek his arm and, after only a moment of hesitation, the Lycan takes it.

There is silence between them as they make their way back into Beacon’s halls, but it does not last, with Stiles being who he is.

“I quite enjoyed your story of the Blessed, Derek. Where did you hear the tale?”

He’s not sure because of how dimly lit the corridor is, but Stiles believes that there may be a bit of redness dancing around the tips of the Alpha Heir’s ears. “I first heard it from my mother, and she heard it from hers, and on so for more than a hundred years. Many of whom you call ‘Others’ have a similar story telling of their own Beginning and what the Goddess Chose them for.”

“I have only ever heard them called Others, ever since I was small and the first one came to parlay with Sc--the King’s father.” Stiles shakes his head, both at the slip and at the fact that he never thought to ask what Derek called his people. Well, he could remedy part of that, at least.

“What do you call each other, if not ‘Others’, then? Are you known to each other as ‘the Blessed’ or is there a certain title for each of you? Is there a certain phrase that I should avoid, so as to not cause offense?”

Derek looks at him in shock, obviously not expecting Stiles’ question. However, it does not fill the Emissary with glee that he staggered the man. No, he is instead upset that the mere thought of trying to make the Lycan more comfortable would come as such a surprise.

“We are known as Shifters to each other. Courtly Names like Lycan, Aeire, and Ursas are only used for when we are in negotiations or in war. ‘The Blessed’ is simply a general term, much like ‘Mankind’ is for your people, despite that describing only half of you.” Derek’s answer cuts across the upset trying to make its home in Stiles’ chest, instead filling him with hope that he may learn more about the man walking beside him.

“We do not really have many names that will upset or anger us, other than the normal curses that Men fling at each other, and the derogatory insults that say we are merely Beasts pretending to be civilized.”

**_Like being called dogs, when you are so much more than those mutts, more even than the Lord that calls you so…_ **

“Shifters, then.” Stiles states, turning them down another corridor and trying to hold back on some of the questions he wants to ask, but unable to keep from letting a few slip through. “Are there many of you? What all can you Shift into? I know that you and your brethren are of Lycan, can share the form of a wolf, but are there others that can share the form of a bird? Of a _bear_?!?”

For the briefest of moments, Stiles is terrified that he has offended, but then Derek is throwing his head back and laughing, loud and unfettered, making Stiles’ heart nearly trip over itself as it starts beating overtime.

“You sound like a young pup, so eager to know all about the world that he does not allow a body to answer one question before he is demanding answers to ten more!” Stiles can feel his face heating at Derek’s comment, though he doesn’t _seem_ to be annoyed. Derek shakes his head and mutters, “Forgive me for my outburst, it has been a while since I’ve heard someone so interested in us who did not want to cause strife and pain.”

“No forgiveness needed to be asked; I rather enjoyed your outburst, Derek, as you look most pleasing with laughter upon your lips.” The compliment is given with almost no thought on Stiles’ part, making him flush and turn on his heel to once more make their way down Beacon’s halls. That ends up only causing further embarrassment, with the realization that he _still_ has the Alpha Heir by the arm. He jerks to a stop before he can even start.

“It seems like _I_ am the one that needs to ask for forgiveness now, given my impertinent comment from a moment ago.” Stiles mumbles, eyes on the stonework beneath their feet when Derek finally decides to start walking again.

“There is nothing to apologize for, My Lord, as I think I may like a bit of impertinence every now and then.”

Taking a quick peek at his companion, Stiles is relieved to see a smile lingering at the edges of Derek’s lips, and it gives him the courage to continue. “Careful, Derek, as I may take those words and make my way for the hills!”

A chuff of laughter is Stiles’ reward for the quip before Derek evenly states, “You must have driven your nurses to distraction as a child.”

“Oh, if you are looking for stories of how much mischief I could get into, as well as out of, then you need look no further than my own father for those tales! We were simple men, us Stilinskis, and had no name nor coin to spare on nursemaids. He was sure to inform me of every grey hair that my ‘troublesome imaginings’ had given him long before I even knew what the words meant!”

A soft chuckle is the response this time and Stiles is just opening his mouth to launch into one of those tales himself when he is cut off by Derek’s soft, “Thank you for your time, Emissary Stilinski.”

Swallowing back the words that would have allowed him a bit more of Derek’s presence, Stiles nods when he notices that they are standing in front of the rooms that the Lycan Heir and his family are staying in. “Yes. It was my pleasure to escort you, Alpha Heir, and I hope that I may steal you again sometime in the future?”

“There will be no need for stealing, My Lord. After all, how can someone steal what will by all rights belong to them in a few days’ time?”

“You will still be your own person, able to make your own decisions, no matter what the papers and Court have to say.” Stiles is surprised by the venom he can hear in his own voice, but he _needs_ Derek to understand this, _needs_ him to see that he will still have his freedom despite being bound to Stiles this way…

“And if that decision is to never allow you near me?” The defiance in Derek’s tone makes Stiles sigh, but this needs to be discussed and not pushed aside like so many other things.

“A painful disappointment,” Stiles decides not to think too long on how true those words are, despite the flippancy of his tone, and instead presses on with his point.  “As I am a _treasure_ and it has been a while since I have found someone who could tolerate me for overlong.”

A snort from Derek is his only reply to _that_ , then, “If I decide to stay in my Shifter form for as long as we are Paired?”

“ _I_ would not be disappointed, as I hear Shifter forms are both terrifying and beautiful, but I think members of the Court may fall straight into a faint if we were to sup with them.”

“What if I demand that we find our own Den in the Wilderness and live as bare as the day the Goddess Created us?”

“Then I ask that you find somewhere much warmer than out amid the trees, for my flesh is overly sensitive and both burns as well as chills very easily.”

The light in _this_ hallway allows Stiles to see the redness upon Derek’s face _very_ well. Derek no doubt can see Stiles’ when he realizes _what_ he just said, but both ignore it as they spend a moment merely looking at each other, each one trying to get the other to back down or admit defeat.

“What if…” Derek starts, before swallowing hard and dropping his gaze to the stoned floor, shaking his head in a soft denial before muttering, “No, that will never happen.”

Stiles bites his lip as he wonders the consequences of making Derek ask his question when the man finally raises his gaze and mutters, “Have a good evening, Emissary,” before gently moving past Stiles and entering his chambers, shutting the door behind him with a rather final sounding _click_.

Sighing heavily, Stiles stares at the closed door in frustration before making his way to his own chambers. He ruminates on everything he has learned and the dogged aggravation that comes with the realization that Derek is _still_ refusing to use his given name.


End file.
